Cutting Out Disappointment

Here’s a thing that happened once.

I was about 15 years old and I stabbed someone’s lung with a scalpel. I pretty much just wanted to see what happens when you stab a lung. In my head it would burst like a balloon and either pop with a gush of air or sort of blow raspberries out the hole until it was flat. And keeping with the theme of honesty, I was disappointed. It did none of those things. I just made a scalpel sized incision in the lung. It was a lung full of air and it didn’t act like a bike tyre when punctured.

I should probably clarify that someone was probably at some point called Maple, because the owner of the lung was a pig who had in all likelihood been distributed at the local butcher already. And it was a science class, a biology one to be exact. We inflated the lung and I stabbed it… mercilessly. It wasn’t long before the same girl that cried when we had to watch a war documentary was exclaiming that she was going to be sick, before she flounced out of the room with great drama and flair.

She didn’t last particularly long in the class where I shot my hand up to dissect a kidney and an eyeball either. And let me tell you, eyeballs are weird!

But anyway, the lung was a bust. It turns out when you stab something made of thousands of tiny pockets of air, you only puncture a few of said pockets. Leaving the rest of the lung in tact. Which is quite confusing because there’s a thing called a collapsed lung, how does that work? Answers on a postcard people.

I felt a very different kind of deflation based disappointment yesterday night when I realised not only could I not have the two weeks off work I wanted but that meant I wouldn’t be going to Croatia as planned. That took the wind out of my sails, the air out of my balloon and the pizza out of my pizzazz.

But I didn’t write that post about dealing with disappointment recently for no reason. I’ve dealt with disappointment, booked off a different couple of weeks and have even selected a shiny new country for my holiday all in one day. Although the country isn’t a shiny new one as such, it’s pretty old really, around about 600 years old.

But it does come with the unfortunate side effect of getting Y Viva España stuck in your head…

S. Hansen


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