Surface Features vs. Deeper Issues

When I see the photo of myself on the sidebar, I think to myself that on the surface, everything looks fine. I don't need braces, and I certainly don't need jaw surgery. (Well, that's what I wanted to believe.) But just because something looks okay doesn't mean there's not an underlying, deeper issue lurking beneath the surface.

That realization can be a rude awakening, at least it was for me.

Two years ago, I had my wisdom teeth extracted. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience because I was getting local anesthesia for the first time and that scared the bejeezus out of me. In fact, my last words before going under was, "I'm so scared." I know, I'm a chicken!

Of course, the procedure went without a hitch, but in replacement of my wisdom teeth was paranoia. I was sure my teeth were going to move now that the wisdom teeth were gone. So I figured an orthodontist would put my fears to rest. I scheduled an appointment with Dr. Wong two weeks after my wisdom teeth were removed.

Before divulging The Revelation, I have to say that Dr. Wong is a cool guy. He has a positive and informal demeanor that can put anyone at ease. And he's very clear at explaining information, which is important to me. He's also from Hawaii - that may sound like a non sequitur, but it was relevant to me because he was open about explaining the role of genetics and heredity in Hispanics, Asians, and other non-Caucasian populations - all of those factors correspond to the structure of the teeth, lips, and mouth, which in turn, affect alignment.

So, The Revelation.

As I was laying on the examination table with my mouth wide open, Dr. Wong told me that I didn't need to worry about my teeth shifting due to the wisdom-teeth extraction. I had a much larger problem on my hands, he said. I had suffered some kind of trauma in my childhood that affected my jaw development. That is, my jaws never developed properly, which created a host of problems I was already aware of, but would only get worse with age if untreated.

When he said those words, a memory immediately came to mind. It wasn't the first time I conjured up that memory, but it freaked me out nonetheless. Now, as a cognitive psychologist, I know full well how fallible memory is, so naturally I hedged when I told Dr. Wong about this memory. But I do believe this memory offers an auspicious clue to my current situation.

When I was three-years old, my parents and brother lived on a military base in Texas. One evening, my parents were having an argument in the kitchen. I was in the kitchen, too, and I wanted to go to the living room, which meant I had to sneak in between them to get there. It was bad timing: My father accidentally hit me on the back of my head (I think he was using his hands in a gesture; I don't think he meant to hit me deliberately). I fell to the ground face first. Next thing I remember is a white cloth being put into my mouth; a cup of milk with my teeth in it; and the last thing I remember is sitting in the back of the car being whisked away to the hospital. That's it - that's the end of my memory.

Crazy, right? Well, the memory really is irrelevant because it doesn't solve the current problem. Dr. Wong presented me with three options: 1) do nothing and in another 10-15 years get my teeth replaced because they're too worn down; 2) wear a splint to maintain the status quo; or 3) have jaw surgery to fix the problem. He elaborated on each point, but when I heard the word "surgery," I lost the ability to process language. I felt like he just delivered the biggest sucker-punch to my gut. I felt nauseous and faint because I realized that getting my wisdom teeth removed was basically a walk in the park in comparison to the jaw surgery he was talking about. And I had been so scared. Good grief!

I told Dr. Wong I had to think about it, and I stumbled out of his office. I was stupefied; I immediately called my brother and told him what happened. He was shocked. When I told him about my memory, he said, "Michelle, I don't remember that happening to you." Well, my brother was two-years old at the time, so that might explain it! :0)

I did call my father that night and asked him about it - true to form, he said he didn't remember that ever happening to me. It took another year before I was able to ask my mother. When I saw her last summer in Puerto Rico, I took the opportunity to ask her. In shock and amazement, she confirmed that memory. "Yes, Michelle, that did happen to you," she said. And she provided me with a few more details about the event - that I fell so quickly I didn't have time to use my hands to break my fall, hence me hitting the floor face first. She also told me I lost all four of my upper teeth, which I presume the doctors somehow put back into my mouth.

Anyway, that's the back story. You already know that I choose Option 3. I  hope I've made the right decision because there's no going back now!