I obediently followed Aunt Chloe and Mom into the spare
bedroom and sat down on the bed. Aunt Chloe searched
through her bag and pulled out a few items. Blood pressure
wrist band, stethoscope, thermometer, a large baggie
filled to the rim with pill bottles that rattled around
when she dropped them on the bed.

“Where did I put it?” she mumbled to herself and Mom and I
shared a look. Mom patted my hand reassuringly and I
smiled at her.

“Aha, here it is!” Aunt Chloe said triumphantly,
brandishing a large magnifying glass in her hand.

“Now dear, let’s get a good look at your neck. Where were
you pinched?”

I was relieved she wanted to start there. I had no doubt
if Dad was in charge, he would want to know if I had been
molested in some way and getting an OB/GYN exam by my
great, great Aunt was not my idea of a good time.

I pulled my hair to the side and showed her the spot.

“Marilyn, could you get me a warm washcloth so we can
clean up her neck a little bit?”

Mom jumped to do her bidding, anxious to be helping in any
small way. When my neck was relatively dirt free, my aunt
gazed at it through the looking glass and made a lot of
hmmm and ahh sounds.

She pointed out a bruise to my mother where I was pinched
and then identified two small incision marks, barely
visible in the bruise.

My mother looked down at her hand, the one I sucked on and
showed it to my Great Aunt. She proceeded to tell her what
I did when I entered the kitchen. I squirmed in my seat,
wishing I could run away and hide. I hear people do really
odd things when they are in shock, but I doubted they
nibbled on their mother’s hand and helped themselves to a
blood cocktail.

Then Aunt Chloe wrapped a wide medical gadget on my wrist
and turned it on.

“What’s this?” I asked curiously, my wrist getting
squeezed uncomfortably.

“It’s my blood pressure band. It helps me keep track of my
high blood pressure. It’s why I need those pills.” She
gestured to the overflowing baggie.

I nodded and looked at the large digital face of the wrist
band, which stayed suspiciously blank.

“Is it broken?” I asked when the LED registered only one
pulse the entire time it was on my wrist.

“Don’t think so. Marilyn, let’s do you.” She took the cuff
off of me and put it on my mom.

Mom’s reading showed an unusually high blood pressure
which was understandable considering the situation and a
decent pulse rate.

They both looked at the cuff, then me, pursing their lips
in speculation. At that moment, I saw the family
resemblance perfectly.

“Let’s take her temperature,” Mom suggested as she picked
up an ancient-looking thermometer. She took it into the
spare bathroom to wash. She walked back shaking the
mercury down and put it under my tongue.

I sat obediently, the glass stick placed awkwardly under
my tongue. After a minute, they read the thermometer and
then stared at me strangely.

“98 point 6?” I asked hopefully.

“Uh, no,” my mom replied, less than helpful.

Aunt Chloe took her stethoscope out and listened to my
heart and lungs. She nodded in satisfaction, putting her
tools of the trade back in the bag. She took her time
tidily arranging all of her things. Mom sat down next to
me again and held my hand. When Aunt Chloe was done
straightening things up, she stood up and made her medical
prediction.

“Well, technically you’re dead,” she announced with
flourish.