Long Lungs

In the dim glow of the x-ray lab, I overheard one technician talking to the other behind the safety screen: “Darn. That’s odd. We’ll have to take another one and lower it; she’s got long lungs.” He sounded rushed and irritated.

Wait. Come again? Long compared to what? I wanted to ask them about it, as in, is this unusual? Am I a freak? I didn’t ask because, to be honest, I felt a little uncomfortable. As if they were being judgmental, and what would I use as a come back? “Oh yeah, well so are your mother’s!” 

So of course I’m still pondering this revelation. Have my lungs always been long, and no one ever thought to mention it? Is it hereditary? Do I come from a long line of long-lunged people? And are long lungs an advantage or a disadvantage or just an irritant to over-worked x-ray technicians?

True I’m tall; 5’11” at my peak, I’ve compacted to 5’9” in my dotage. Along with dreading my annual weigh-ins, I cringe with my annual height-ins as I surreptitiously stretch to graze the 5’9” mark.

But that got me thinking that maybe, just maybe, my lungs appear long because they’re closer to my waist than they used to be. And what about gravity? We all know what it does to our outer selves. Does it actually drag down our innards? Are our insides in a perpetual cascade? Are pot bellies and collapsed chests a result of this long inglorious slide? If so, could a web of mesh slings pull us back into the glorious alignment of our youth?

These are things people probably don’t give much thought to until they’re saturated with radiation and their innermost outlines held up to the light and possible derision. Do I wish I hadn’t overheard that conversation in the x-ray lab? I don’t really know. I do know I left there with a long face, and am still wondering if I should bring this up with my GP.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This reflection on length got me remembering bits of a poem I wrote in junior high. I think I’ve finally reassembled it. Yes, I do see a pattern of obsession here. So’s your mother!

Tall Troubles 

People say height doesn’t matter

but this cannot be true

for I’m a very tall girl

and because of that I’m quite blue.

Take short Stanley for example

we got along just fine,

but after I stood up

he suddenly called time.

He said height didn’t matter,

he preached on and on,

but then a few minutes later

Stan was gone, Man, gone.

Then there was Jerry D,

boy that guy could flirt,

then his neck got stiff,

now he can’t see me for dirt.

The latest one was Adam,

but that will no doubt end

like all the times before it,

before it can begin.

So I’ll just have to cool it

and learn to bide my time,

while I wait for them to grow,

they will some day you know.

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