12 November 2019 • Victor J. Perez III - II

This essay was published in Malocclusion: A Post-Bimaxillary Osteotomy Nonfiction Journal, which can be found here

“ My mouth was sewn up ”

Upon waking up from my surgery, The first thing I noticed was how much I didn’t feel. Everything was numb and bloated. Uncomfortable, but not painful. The second thing I noticed was that I could not open my jaw. Strong elastic bands were attached to the surgical hooks on my braces. The only thing that could force my teeth apart was the strong convulsions that came with me vomiting blood all over myself while resting on my hospital bed. My lips were swollen as if my surgeon bundled in a botox injection with my double jaw surgery.

“ I have followed a path | That took sacrifices ”

This was the promised surgery. The one event that would change my life, solve all my problems. The surgery that five years of braces led up to. After being delayed three times, it was finally done. I always felt uncomfortable with the idea that one expensive medical procedure could fix all of your problems. Life is never that simple. Looking back though, it wasn’t just one medical procedure, it was years of sacrifice. Vacations abandoned for dental appointments. Internships forsaken for delayed surgery dates. So much pain. All leading up to eight of surgery, and three months of recovery.

My surgery was successful without any complications whatsoever. They didn’t even have to insert the dreaded catheter. All that was left was to heal. Two weeks in, my swelling went down enough to start moving my lips: I could speak. It took effort to make out the words, but I could communicate. Sometime after, a release show for the publication I worked hard on for a year took place. I was in a different state: another sacrifice I had to make for my jaw. Then, as I was about to sleep, I received a message from a friend about how much my work meant to him, and how he wished I was there to see the show. Over a hundred people showed up to that event, and I was not one of them.

“ Remove this hindrance ”

There’s a reason double jaw surgery is considered a medical procedure and not a cosmetic procedure. The position of my jaw prevented me from breathing easily through my nose, which meant I ended up breathing through my mouth most of the time. This led to an increase in cavities as well as gingivitis. Since my underbite was severe, I couldn’t eat with my front teeth, which meant the back teeth wore down faster than my others.

None of those medical issues concerned me. The blight of my underbite was the social anxieties I dealt with because of it. I was a sloppy eater, especially when it came to sandwiches, so I hated eating in front of other people. It was difficult for me to smile. As if I was permanently in a bad mood, I wore a frown wherever I went. When it came to talking, I spoke as sloppily as I ate. Words would be mumbled and jumbled together, and occasionally spit and drool would leave my mouth. Most of all, I felt ugly. I would look in the mirror and see a flesh shoe poking out from the bottom of my head.

For years, I refused to form close relationships with anyone for any reason. I only wanted one thing; that life-changing surgery that was dangling in front of my eyes. My mother would often say: “Once you get your jaw fixed, you won’t be able to stop smiling!” I resent her for saying that.

“ I was separated | From what I can do ”

After nearly three weeks of recovering in Virginia, it was time to go back to Morgantown. I no longer had to eat with a syringe, and the swelling went down enough to make my speech more fluid. I was welcomed by my close friends, who understood me enough to make conversation. It was tiring, but I was able to live in relative normalcy for the next two weeks that my jaw would be closed shut. Unfortunately, the liquid diet I was on eventually proved things difficult.

Walking to and from class while barely ingesting a thousand calories a day meant I was faced with rapid weight loss. I would meet with close friends and talk for a while, but it left my jaw sore and my body exhausted for the rest of the day. One week after moving in, I looked down at my belt and noticed that it was two positions tighter than I usually put it. My weight was dropping, and I couldn’t eat enough to make up for it. But this was just another sacrifice, one of the last few.

“ Need to break up | Vicious habits ”

Three years ago, I grew impatient. I had waited so long for the life-altering event, that it no longer seemed achievable. It had already been delayed once after all. So I resolved to remove the heartless parasite birthed from my jaw. To anyone that would listen, I would force myself to speak to.

And then my surgery was delayed again. My morale was crushed, and I began to assess my progress. I had surrounded myself with the first people willing to be my friend, however, I came to understand that not all friends are good. So I started over, and at the suggestion of someone I casually spoke to at a birthday party, I joined my college’s radio station. I started making real friends, ones I could depend on. The years passed, and eventually, I realized that the only time people recognized my underbite was when I stuck my finger in between the gap that formed when my jaw was closed. When the third delay came, it didn’t bring as much despair.

“ With jaw fallen in | In fallen jaw ”

In five days from the time I’m writing this, the elastics holding my jaw together will be removed. I will be able to talk and breathe easier, but I will still be unable to eat solid food for two weeks more. Six weeks with a closed jaw is a small sacrifice for such a life-changing surgery. I do wonder though, why haven’t I felt self concious about my mouth being clamped shut? Why am I so calm? Did my surgery really cause this?