Here's
a set of lungs from a pig. They're about the same
size as your lungs and, no offence, but they're also identical.
They don't look very big but if we stretched out all these fine
membranes they'd cover a racquetball court. And it's jammed
into a sac about the size of a 3 litre milkbag.
Notice
that the lungs are each covered by a thin clear membrane.
It looks and feels like industrial strength plastic wrap.
That's called the PLEURA Ð and inflammation of it is called
pleurisy.
But
the lungs themselves begin up here, at the throat. Food
and air travels down the throat, and then splits off. The
esophagus takes the food and the larnyx or voicebox handles the
air. The vocal cords are stretched across the top of the
larynx and they vibrate when air passes through them. The
vibration produces speech if you're human or an oink if you're
a pig.
Below
the larnyx is the trachea, a large tube of bone that divides into
two bronchi. An infection here is bronchitis.
Then the bronchi divide into smaller tubes called bronchioles,
then divide again into smaller and smaller tubes until they become
too small to see. All of these tiny bronchioles in
the lung end in a microscopic dead end, sort of a like a cul de
sac. It's called the alveoulus and it's where the real work
of the lung gets done.
Alveolus
means grape in Latin and you can see by this model .. it is like
a little grape .. or a very small balloon. The wall of the
alveolus is a rich supply of blood vessels and when you take a
big breath in, air (and oxygen) rushes down through all this tubing
and comes into millions of these tiny grape-like sacs- and then,
a simple process occurs. The oxygen in the air goes directly into
the blood vessels, to be carried off to thirsty cells throughout
the body. It isn't pumped across the capillary wall,
it doesn't pass go and collect 200 dollars - it just flows into
the blood. That's all there is to it - breath after
breath after breath, your lungs inflate with air (blows up lung)
cleverly sucking the life-giving oxygen out of the air every time.
And with the used-up air, you're exhaling, or talking away, even
as I am now, completely oblivious to the wonder and complexity
of it all. If you stop and think about it (gasp) it's enough
to take your breath away.