About 4 years ago, I realized I had some pain while chewing, or even while holding my mouth closed. Eventually, I had a dentist appointment, in which my dentist told me that my canines were the only teeth in my mouth that made contact. In fact, he was able to slide a piece of paper between the gap of my molars when I was biting down. This whole time I thought everyone’s bite was like that. For the next three years, I did not think of it as a big deal, and went on with my life.
Three years later, even though I did not get taller, my lower jaw grew a bit more. I had more difficulty chewing, the pain grew to be continuous, and I was hyper-aware of my jaw all the time. Eventually, I decided to talk to an orthodontist about any sort of options. Instead of giving me the option of a retainer or Invisalign, like I was hoping, he gave me the name of an Orthognathic Jaw surgeon.
From the surgeon, I learned that I had a class 3 malocclusion, which is basically a lopsided underbite. For reference, on a scale from one to J Leno, I was about a 4. To fix my bite, all he would have to do is bring my upper jaw 4 millimeters forward. It sounds like a small amount, but the surgery and recovery would still be a lengthy process.
It took a while to decide whether or not to get the surgery. However, learning that my chances of developing arthritis in my jaw were quite high and that the surgery was covered by insurance, I figured that jaw surgery would be the best option for me.
About six months of appointments and braces—for the second time—later, I got my surgery. Most of the pain subsided within two days after the surgery. Since then, the biggest issue I have is following a strict no-chew diet for a month.
Perhaps the strangest part of my whole experience is how different I look. Before the surgery, I used to get plenty of people asking why I looked so angry all the time. Now, my mouth is slightly upturned in a perpetual “resting nice face” expression. Throughout my entire—short lived—adult life, I never got called names such as, “honey,” “darling,” or “sweetie.” Post-surgery, I somehow manage to get all three. Another jarring part of the whole experience is that some of my old professors, acquaintances, and even myself, fail to recognize me.
Despite the weird attention, the lengthy soft food diet, and the strain of recovery, I would say that jaw surgery was worth it. It was best for my situation to get the surgery, especially since I avoided so much trouble later on. If I had to choose again, I would go through the process all over again.