I’ve never enjoyed going into the anatomy
lab, and the times when I do, it's usually only out of necessity. The sight of shriveled, gray
cadavers and prosected organs bathed in formaldehyde – a powerful, odorous preservative
– makes my stomach uneasy. And so it was with a sense of resignation that I put
on my lab coat on Wednesday and went to the lab for a dissection. I washed my hands, snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and waited
with nervous apprehension for whatever specimen was about to be plunked down on
our table.
The lab coordinator walked over to my group with a metal tray bearing a pair of pig’s lungs and heart, which closely resemble their human counterparts. Unlike the
preserved specimens, these organs were fresh, plump with hydration and gleaming red. My instant reaction: Wow, these are beautiful!
Even though our objective was to dissect the heart, I was far more fascinated by
the lungs. I detached them with a few well-aimed slices and moved them over to my side of the tray. They are so incredibly soft that they
jiggle when you prod them with your finger.
The trachea, our windpipe, plunges through the top and separates into two main "bronchi", which further split into
countless "bronchioles" with hundreds of millions of alveoli at their tips - microscopic sacs
of air that exchange gases with the blood. I tried tearing an opening in the
pleura (the membrane that bounds the lungs) with my hands - but it was incredibly tough, the product of millions of
years of evolution.
Our lungs have their own little universe within them, an intricate mosaic of airways, nerves and air sacs that sustain our breathing for our entire lives.
Later that day, on my car's radio, I listened to Christina Aguilera sing passionately about how we are all beautiful inside.
I couldn't agree more.
