For almost a minute, Yuri struggled for air. Under Connie’s weight, he couldn’t inhale. The room began to blur; he was afraid he might pass out.
In a final, desperate movement, Yuri was able to twist to the side enough to let him get at least enough air to keep from asphyxiating. Then it became a matter of disengaging himself from Connie’s flaccid, spread-eagle embrace.
Finally, after great effort, Yuri squeezed free from Connie’s near mortal clasp. He struggled to his feet gasping for breath. He was tempted to flee but found himself rooted in place while staring down at his wife’s now prone figure. He shuddered with a wave of unearthly fear. In her half-dead state, Connie had nearly exacted her revenge.
The distant sound of an approaching siren shocked Yuri into action. He had to do something. Explaining how his battered wife had ended up prone alongside a collapsed bed might be difficult. It would have been better to have left her in the bed where she’d been originally, but getting her back was an impossibility.
Knowing he had little time, Yuri squatted down. Pulling Connie’s arms he managed to twist her around so that her head was pointing toward the bathroom. Then, after rolling her over onto her back, he again seized her by the armpits and dragged her into the bathroom. His idea was to make it look as if she’d collapsed in there, hitting her eye on any one of a number of likely fixtures.
As the sound of the ambulance got progressively louder, Yuri checked himself and Connie for any last-minute problems. All seemed to be in order. Then he rushed back into the bedroom, where he hastily straightened the sheets that had been dragged with Connie when he’d pulled her onto the floor.
Vigorous pounding on the front door sent Yuri running. Two uniformed EMTs burst into the room as soon as Yuri pulled the door open. One was a woman, the other a man. Both were carrying equipment.
“Where’s the patient?” the woman barked.
Yuri pointed. “In the bathroom through that bedroom.”
Yuri followed the technicians as they ran to the rescue. They squeezed into the bathroom and began to administer to Connie. The first thing they did was get oxygen on her face. Yuri crossed his fingers that there wasn’t going to be a miraculous resurrection.
“She’s breathing shallowly and she’s got a heartbeat,” the woman said to the man. “But her color’s poor. We’d better bag her.”
Yuri watched as the technicians forced oxygen into Connie’s lungs. Her chest rose perceptibly higher than when she’d been breathing on her own.
“No obstruction,” the man said who was compressing the breathing bag at a set interval.
“What happened here?” the woman asked Yuri who was standing in the doorway trying to look tormented. She worked while she talked, putting EKG leads onto Connie.
“I don’t know,” Yuri said. “She’d been having a little trouble breathing this evening, but it wasn’t bad. Then I heard her fall in here. That’s how I found her.”
The woman nodded. “Does she have a history of asthma?”
“Yeah,” Yuri said. “Quite a bit.”
“How about allergies?” the woman asked.
“Those, too,” Yuri said.
“Did she complain of any chest pain?”
“No, not at all,” Yuri said.
The woman nodded again. She ran a rhythm strip with her EKG. She showed it to her partner and commented that it was slow but regular. He nodded.
The woman looked up at Yuri. “How much does she weigh?”
“I don’t know,” Yuri admitted. “A lot.”
“That I can see,” the woman said. She pulled her radio from its belt holster and called into her base. She told the dispatcher they needed assistance to carry an unconscious obese patient who seemed to be momentarily stable. She said they’d need at least three more guys.
It took considerable effort for the EMTs to get Connie out of the bathroom, onto a stretcher and out into the ambulance. Yuri was generally ignored through this process, but he was allowed to ride with Connie to the hospital. She was intubated and given oxygen continuously during the ordeal.
At the hospital, Connie was taken into the treatment area while Yuri had to spend time giving the details of Connie’s insurance. Then he was relegated to the waiting room. At one point a disheveled doctor with a ponytail came out and went over the history, particularly in regard to the asthma and allergy. Yuri said that Connie had not had much trouble with her breathing recently, at least since they’d been married. He told the doctor that his wife had described lots of hospital visits and trips to the emergency room before they’d met. In regard to specific allergies, Yuri said he wasn’t sure what she was allergic to but thought it was things like nuts, cats, dust, and pollen.
“How’s she doing?” Yuri asked hesitantly when the doctor got up to leave.
“To be truthful, she’s not doing well,” the doctor admitted. “We’re afraid her brain was denied oxygen for too long. She has no peripheral reflexes whatsoever, which doesn’t bode well for her brain function. I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. I’m sorry.”
Yuri nodded. He wished he could make himself cry, but he couldn’t. Instead he hung his head. The doctor gave his shoulder a squeeze and then disappeared.
An hour later the same doctor reappeared. This time he had a white coat over his crumpled pajama-like outfit. His name tag said Dr. Michael Cooper. He came over to Yuri and sat down. Yuri looked into the man’s gray-green eyes.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” Dr. Cooper said.
Yuri visibly stiffened. In his mind’s eye he could see Connie suddenly sit up someplace within the depths of the emergency room and say it was something in the ice cream that had first made her see double.
“Your wife has passed away,” Dr. Cooper said softly. “We did all we could, but we just couldn’t help her. I’m terribly sorry.”
Tears sprang into Yuri’s eyes. That they were tears of joy made no difference. He was thrilled the tears had come to add to his theatrics. But mostly he was thrilled that he’d been right about how to get rid of Connie. Despite all his anxieties, it had worked. He was free, and Curt was going to be pleased.
“I know this must be a terrible shock to you,” Dr. Cooper continued. “She is such a young person.”
“Thank you,” Yuri said. He wiped his tears away with the knuckle of his right index finger, making sure the doctor saw the maneuver. “I suppose I have to make some sort of arrangements for her body. Do you think someone could help me? It’s something I don’t know anything about.”
“Absolutely,” Dr. Cooper said. “I can have Social Service come and talk with you in a few minutes. But I can relieve your understandable anxiety by saying that you don’t have to make any decisions tonight.”
“No?” Yuri questioned. “Why not?”
“Because your wife is going to be what we call a medical examiner case,” Dr. Cooper explained.
“Does that mean an autopsy?” Yuri asked with consternation.
“Yes, it does,” Dr. Cooper said. “But I can assure you it’s done with full respect for the deceased.”
“But why an autopsy?” Yuri demanded. “You have the diagnosis.”
“That’s true,” Dr. Cooper said. “We know she died of acute respiratory distress with a history of asthma. But she is a relatively young person who was, prior to this unfortunate attack, a healthy, albeit obese, individual. We all think it best to have the medical examiner take a look in case we’re missing something. I don’t want you to be concerned. It’s purely routine in such cases.”
“I’m sure you’re not missing anything,” Yuri sputtered.