In the course of doing research I had watched autopsies. I knew exactly what happens, the face peeled down, the chest open like a chicken in a butcher's case. I still wanted the autopsy. In fact I wanted to be in the room when they did it, but I didn't think I could present this point rationally so I didn't ask. Here was my reasoning, which for some months remained hidden even from me: an autopsy could show that what had gone wrong was no more than a transitory blockage or arrhythmia. If so, the reasoning went, they might be able to fix it.
