I distinctly remember the moment I realized something was off with my face. Around thirteen, I'd say. It wasn't a cruel comment. Just a photo. A photo of me in profile. That's when I became aware that my face wasn't like others'. I hardly have any profile photos of myself. If I do, I delete them.
I wish this post would be useful to as few people as possible. But if it is, let it be a source of information that I myself searched for when preparing for jaw surgery.
In my teens, I already underwent orthodontic treatment, which was quite demanding, something I would attribute to teenage wisdom at the time and the fact that I'm generally more sensitive when it comes to doctors. As a teenager, I wore fixed braces and two other special appliances: one that widened my upper jaw (which was very painful), and one that was like a mask that pulled my upper jaw forward with elastic bands. Once my teeth were properly aligned and the treatment was finished, I got a removable appliance to take home. Then one day, I simply couldn't put the removable appliance on my teeth anymore, because they started to shift back to their original position. Even then, jaw surgery was mentioned, but where things got stuck at that time, I unfortunately don't know.
Fast forward fifteen years, I'm 30. It took me 10 years to get over and forget how arduous the first orthodontic treatment was. During this time, my teeth returned to how they were before the first orthodontic treatment. Maybe even slightly worse. What bothers me the most is the appearance. My upper lateral incisors look black (rotten) in photos because they are so far back that the shadow falls really strangely. I – the happiest person in the world – don't feel okay when I smile. Although I never take photos with a serious expression and closed lips, because that makes my protruding chin even more visible. In short, insecurities pile up, something needs to be done. Over the years, I've mastered eating, even though my bite is very wrong. My speech is also okay. But I can't breathe through my nose, despite taping my mouth with micropore tape every night. Over all these years, I also figured out how to pose in photos to look “normal”, although I avoid situations where I socialize with people in profile, because I constantly have in my head that the person is looking at me from the side and noticing everything that is wrong with my face. I'm thirty, healthy, fit, and increasingly dissatisfied with the condition of my mouth. Luckily, I had Tina and Nika in elementary school and they didn't tease me about it. Although I have a feeling that I always compensated for my odd facial appearance by making sure I was thin and well-built. The impact of external factors on self-esteem could have been much worse here. Fortunately, I learned to love myself, despite this condition. But still, there's a thought in the back of my mind that I look strange...
Besides appearance, there's also the health factor. Every time I visit the dentist, she suggests that I take action, that I decide to straighten my teeth. She says it will get worse with age, and if I need an implant in later years, it will be a problem because my mouth is a total mess.
I go for my first check-up, enthusiastic about wearing braces again, but immediately face a big decision and a "reality check": it won't work without jaw surgery. I learn what that means, what the surgery looks like, and what the recovery is like. Shit. I won't be able to do it. If there's no surgery, there's a high probability that the teeth won't stay aligned and everything will go back to how it was (just like it happened the first time).
I also go for a first consultation at the maxillofacial clinic in Ljubljana, where they tell me that I am a suitable patient for prognathism surgery. First, I just need to get out all my wisdom teeth. I return to the orthodontist, but she no longer responds. I wait another year and wonder what's going on. I get another X-ray, but nothing moves forward. In the meantime, I have all four wisdom teeth extracted. Even that causes me stress and nausea, and I wonder how I'll handle jaw surgery.
Then I go for a second opinion to Orto MG in Postojna. There, everything is clear to the orthodontist. He explains everything to me confidently, and a month later, I get fixed braces. He tells me the same thing, advises surgery, and says I'll have to wear a removable retainer and a fixed wire retainer for life. Okay. At this point, I'm already - "fuck it", I can't be like this anymore, I immediately make the decision, accept the offer (yes, such treatment is not cheap) and make an appointment.
On March 8, 2024, I got fixed braces and a warning that my bite would get even worse during treatment. My teeth touched at exactly two points. Despair. This time, I was spared the upper jaw expander, and I found the whole process easier to tolerate than the first time. There were still many discomforts: tightening, pain with every wire change, regular canker sores, and giving up certain foods. Two to three days after a wire change, when my teeth were moving very intensely, I sometimes wished I could just tear my head off. Well, preparation for what awaited me later... If it was too much, I'd take a painkiller and go to sleep. As an adult, I perceive and accept pain differently than in my teens. I endure it when necessary.
My teeth incredibly quickly formed a beautiful arch. By August, the lateral incisors were already in the light. Before, they had been hidden behind the central incisors for a decade. I had black dental calculus on one of them, making it look like a rotten tooth, which was also removed during my next orthodontist visit. I am extremely satisfied with the orthodontic treatment; the office staff is professional, friendly, and I have no complaints. I pay in installments. I always feel like they know what they're doing. The months pass quickly.
I scheduled an appointment at the maxillofacial clinic and went for my first consultation in December 2024. There, they thoroughly examined me and developed a rough plan, even mentioning surgery on both jaws, which completely shocked me, as I had only expected surgery on the lower jaw. They dissected me in detail, explaining that one side of my face was longer and more developed, and that this couldn't be corrected. It was slightly unpleasant because I became aware of all the other irregularities that I might not have noticed before. I also have a crossbite. I received a leaflet explaining how the surgery proceeds and what recovery looks like. The photos there are very graphic, and I read it with my hand covering them. Otherwise, I feel sick. The surgeon wants a letter from the orthodontist confirming my readiness for the surgery.
In March 2025, I bring the orthodontist's letter to the maxillofacial clinic and receive my surgery date. We agree to operate only on the lower jaw, and if the appearance is worse, perhaps some chin reduction, they will decide during the surgery. All I can think is: "Thank goodness." At least it's only one jaw. Leading up to the surgery, I keep thinking it will probably be in September, or if there's a long waiting list, I'll take a date after the new year. November and December are my peak season at work, and I can't afford recovery then. It's only on the last evening, just before I fall asleep, that I say to my husband, what if they give me a date in June? "Yes, do what you want," he says. At this point, I'm already: "Let's just get this over with, let it be behind me as soon as possible." I actually get a date for June. Before that, I have an X-ray, a trip to Namibia (yes, I get a warning to be careful not to get sick, as that would prevent the surgery), and I regularly go to Dr. Tamara Perhavec for medical hypnosis. I don't know where, why, or how I developed a fear of blood, doctors, and all that. But it's severe. Hypnosis truly helps me endlessly, so I don't panic, to find some inner strength and a sanctuary where I can escape during difficult moments. I nurture my flower garden (that's my imaginary safe space) even outside of hypnosis sessions, and I can quickly and effectively escape there when things are tough. In the meantime, I'm also looking for information about the surgery itself. I'm just the kind of person who wants to know as much as possible beforehand, so I can at least roughly create a vision of how it will all look. There's almost no information online. Except for a very horrifying story on the Oopsi portal and a few forums. Fortunately, I still have a fairly large Instagram profile and find people who have undergone the surgery and are willing to share their experience with me. I chat most with Klavdija and Nika. They give me all the information. I find videos and visuals on TikTok. Enough to roughly know what I'll look like. I mentally prepare myself to be swollen and bruised and that it will be difficult. I take care of all my work obligations; my husband and my mother will take care of the child if necessary. For the first few days, they still have school, then they go to a basketball camp, so it will be a bit easier for me. The evening before leaving for Ljubljana, we go for a family dinner, the last supper, when I can still bite, for pizza at Zotlar's.
The day before the operation (on Thursday), I am admitted to the hospital. The admission process is very slow; they take an impression of my teeth, which is a bit unpleasant (especially because I'm used to modern technology from the Orto MG office – here it's old-fashioned – that nasty mass that makes you want to gag). I'm in my room a little before lunch. There's a guy and a girl who were operated on yesterday (Wednesday). They look awful. I think to myself... "well, I won't be like that". I ask the girl if she can talk, and she says a little. She quickly tells me how it was. Because she's like that, I can't judge her age, and she tells me she's 36. Okay, great, I'm not the only older one. She says it's tough. That it doesn't hurt, but it's hard. The guy only had his lower jaw operated on, at least that's my layman's assessment. I don't talk to him. I also have a consultation with the anesthesiologist. I tell him I'm afraid of such things and that they shouldn't spare the sedatives. He says I'll get pills in the morning so I'll be more relaxed going into surgery. He tells me that during the operation, I'll be connected to a breathing machine (I apologize, I have no medical expertise and am describing everything in terms I understand) and won't be breathing on my own, which might cause some discomfort after the operation. That I'll just fall asleep and wake up in about two hours.
I don't know exactly when I'll be next in the morning. That day, I'm relatively relaxed: I read, and the day passes quickly. I ask for permission to leave and go for a walk in the center of Ljubljana. I buy some snacks, eating as long as I can. In the evening, I meet the surgeon again, only around 7 PM, he quickly examines me, says they'll grind some of my teeth a bit so the bite will be more stable afterwards. I'm surprised that he's still at work at 7 PM, and then he comes back in the morning and operates. He says we'll see each other in the morning, unless he has to operate due to an accident during the night, then he won't be there in the morning. "Please, up there, make sure I don't have to go through these preparations twice, because I don't know if I can manage." At the hospital, I also get dinner and then, during the night, my last meal before the operation, a kind of drink. Then fasting, until they call me into the operating room.
I get ready for the operating room, which means hospital pajamas and no underwear. On Friday morning, I get the pills, which work well, and I doze off a little before they call me. They escort me to the operating room. There's an incredibly positive and relaxed atmosphere. I had expected seriousness and tension. Instead, they ask me for a music request and play Reggaeton Lento. Despite everything, I start trembling. They are extremely compassionate, they caress me, they announce every single thing they do to me in advance. I close my eyes and tell them I don't need to see everything. They insert an IV, and the last thing I remember is them (I don't know exactly who it was) telling me that everything will be fine and to think of something beautiful. I don't dream anything, I don't remember anything, it's just a big nothing.
I know they pull back my gums, cut nerves, and cut the bone in my lower jaw: on one side, they remove more bone than on the other to correct the crossbite as well, not just the protruding jaw. Then they stitch everything back up. The next thing I'm aware of is that I really, really have to pee... To this day, I don't know if I peed into a bedpan or just dreamed it. Anyway, the first realization was that I desperately needed to pee. :) The very next thing was a very high text conversation with my husband, telling him I had survived the surgery. Good thing he's used to my typos, so he could figure out what I was communicating.
I woke up with a cooling mask on my face. Soon after, I got up and actually went to pee. By myself. I wore the mask almost constantly. Most of the time, I lay down. I immediately noticed that I had absolutely no feeling in my lip and chin. They instructed me to keep my lips constantly moisturized. This was followed by medications via IV, instructions on how to clean my mouth (with a kind of sponge soaked in disinfectant, which tasted like bleach, or at least that's how I imagine bleach tastes - very disgusting), and to lie and sleep as upright as possible. The feeling of discomfort then increased by the hour. The unpleasantness could best be described as pressure. The swelling was worst on the third, fourth, and fifth day after surgery. I can't say it hurt, because I received, who knows, how many painkillers. They were constantly injecting something into me: for pain, for swelling, antibiotics, for nausea... These infusions were quite unpleasant, but bearable. I had many conversations with my veins, asking them to flow nicely. The last thing I wanted was to be pricked again. But there was an extremely unpleasant feeling in my head. My body (arms, legs) worked normally, but my head was... done for. Moving my head, holding my head, talking, eating – everything was very uncomfortable. By the time I woke up from anesthesia, I had lost both my neighbors (they had been discharged by then) and yes, I was exactly like them. Joke's on me. :D They didn't have any visitors. I also recovered alone that weekend. Anyway, you just lounge and can't do much. Most of the time, I simply rested, slept, lay down, and had the cooling mask on constantly – that really helped me. On Sunday (the second day after the surgery), I turned on the TV a little. I tried to read a bit, checked my phone every now and then. But in reality, I couldn't even manage these basic things. I was hungry. For food, we got the same thing, almost every day: a very liquid banana smoothie and beef soup with spinach. And yogurt, which at that time (due to its thickness) I absolutely couldn't get down. I mostly ate with a spoon and sipped or simply drank. I ate very little with a syringe. Of course, I got messy and stained myself. Everything somehow flowed past. It was best if I had a mirror in front of me. Even at home, it was easiest to eat if I looked at myself (so that I could aim for my mouth properly). On the last day, Monday, I felt extremely sick. I think it was due to hunger (I'm used to eating 5 times a day, but here we only got food 3 times; I missed snacks). One nurse brought me sugar, the surgeon even a chocolate bar (which I could barely break and mush), just enough to come to a little. Of course, I wanted to go home. They waited for me to come to because they then put on the elastics with which they wired my teeth, and vomiting with wired teeth, well... you can imagine why they waited.
I also had to go downstairs for an X-ray. Oh, God. That was a whole undertaking. Not to mention all the stares from other clinic visitors. Of course, "I won't be like that". That's exactly how I was: square, swollen, with two stitches on my cheeks - frightening. On Monday, I went home anyway. Even the drive from the clinic to the parking garage (I didn't walk - I rode in a wheelchair) was an ordeal. Then came the worst part: the drive home along the coastal highway. Of course, there were traffic jams. For two hours, two full hours, I kept telling myself: "Nika, hold on, Nika, hold on a little longer, just a little, just hold on, don't throw up, you can do it, hold on, it will be over soon, you won't throw up, hold on, garden, my garden, hold on..." Mostly I kept my eyes closed. I was concentrating the whole time. When I got home, when I finally reached the couch, I started trembling and crying from all the distress. Completely drained and exhausted. I was so sick, I can't even describe it. To throw up when I can't even really open my mouth - my worst nightmare. It's a good thing the children weren't home, because I think they would have been genuinely frightened. My husband brought me sweetened water, and then slowly, and with the help of extra sugary food, I somewhat came to.
The next week was marked by countless canker sores, swelling, quite a few tears, much discomfort, slow liquid feeding, and still a lot of nausea. I had to go see my family doctor (why, I still don't know, and I resent it a little), which was almost a crime. The first few days, I had a very hard time keeping my head upright without support. Every time I sat, walked, or moved, it was a great effort. In the waiting room, I leaned on my husband. At first, it was okay. After about ten minutes, I had to tell myself again: "Hold on, it'll be soon, you're leaning, just hold on a little longer...", and then it became so difficult that I asked if they could take me in. They laid me down. Later, the doctor just looked at me (I couldn't even open my mouth, of course) and sent me back home. A completely unnecessary examination, after which I spent the rest of the day recovering again.
I was still taking three different painkillers and an antibiotic. I stopped taking one of the painkillers, and maybe those were causing my nausea (plus, I think my body was simply hungry and exhausted). During those days, I craved meat (I felt a truly primal need to eat meat). For the first week of recovery, I was honestly grateful that I had waited so long for the surgery, so that the kids had already become independent. I can't imagine recovering with small children (unless you have many grandmas and grandpas at your disposal, which I simply don't). After that first week, the worst was already over. I got used to liquid and pureed food. I ate some things with a syringe, but mostly with a spoon or by drinking. Oral hygiene was poor. I couldn't open my mouth enough to fit a toothbrush in. Except during meals, I wore elastic bands all the time, which positioned my bite correctly, and wearing the elastic bands actually felt quite good – as if they somehow stabilized and held everything in place.
The swelling slowly subsided. At home, I also cooled myself down a lot and slept propped up with several pillows. For about two weeks, I slept on the couch, as that suited me best. Approximately ten days after the operation, I stopped taking painkillers. I gradually reduced the intake. First, I stopped taking one kind, then another, and finally, I could manage without paracetamol. After two weeks, I had my first check-up with the orthodontist, and he was thrilled with the result and said that we wouldn't have much more work to do. Hooray! I had a check-up in Ljubljana after three weeks. By then, I was already feeling pretty okay. Just a conversation, no opening my mouth or a real examination. I was advised to continue eating pureed food. I didn't follow this instruction very strictly; I didn't chew food, but I cut everything into small pieces and then slowly ate it, softened it in my mouth, broke it down with my tongue, and swallowed it. Currently, I am two months post-surgery and still eat in a similar way: everything in small pieces and very slowly. Meat only in Bolognese sauce, otherwise soft foods: various soups, stews, polenta, semolina, smoothies, breadcrumbs, eggs. Now also overcooked pasta and soft sour tomatoes.
Six weeks after the surgery, I had another check-up with the orthodontist. He told me, "I have nothing more to fix," and I replied, "Then take off my braces," and indeed, they removed my braces. Record-breaking speed. I didn't expect it. I was told I'd have them for another six months. That there would still be things to sort out even after the surgery.
Removing the upper white brackets was very frightening. With the warning not to be scared and bite down, it felt like my teeth were being broken. At least, the sound was like that. Horrible. I barely felt the removal of the lower brackets (at this point, sensation is still quite poor). But it went quickly. After the removal, tears poured down. They had been building up before. I suffered, it was hard, to endure all that, to be like that for so many years. Even now, as I type this, I can't see the keyboard because tears are welling up. It was just, hard. I didn't know what I would look like. Would it be worth it?
It was worth it. I wouldn't go through it again. I wouldn't wish such an experience on my worst enemy. No one will ever convince me to get a face lift or similar procedures. :) But I got a new smile. A slightly more harmonious face. You can look at me from the side profile. I am satisfied. I like myself. I'm great. Everything will be okay. It's behind me. I have the rest of my life to smile with all my might.
Every now and then, the thought still crosses my mind: "What if it goes back?" I hope not. I have retainers on my upper and lower teeth and invisible night guards. I will wear them without exception, I know that. I'm still taping my mouth shut. The sensation in my lower lip and chin is returning very slowly; I hope that one day they will fully recover and all the severed connections will reconnect, or that only a small part will remain without sensation. We'll see how that goes. I remain optimistic. I'm still continuing with soft food; I don't have permission to chew yet (nor do I really feel like eating meat, nuts, hard bread crusts, or anything similar). This food part is already annoying, but slowly.
Life is slowly returning to normal two months after the surgery. Physically, I can supposedly do everything, including jumping, running, etc. (one part of my job is leading workouts), but I should still avoid lifting heavy weights. I continue to tape my mouth shut in the hope that one day I will learn to breathe through my nose. Keeping my lips together is tiring, and I feel that the correct tongue position in my mouth only succeeds if I'm conscious and focused on it. However, it is definitely much easier and more natural than before the surgery. I would like some exercises and workouts for my lips and tongue. I am searching for such additional information myself. Unfortunately, there is no holistic approach or treatment anywhere. You have a prognathism diagnosis, okay, surgery. You have crooked teeth, okay, braces. Just treating the symptoms and not correcting some patterns that led to such a condition. Why do I even have prognathism, what influenced it, how to act in the future so that the condition in my mouth remains good for as long as possible... I will continue to investigate this myself, as much as my time, finances, and energy (which I am already directing in all directions) allow.
My prognathism was most likely hereditary and combined with mouth breathing, I simply ended up where I am: recovering from jaw surgery.
In the end, I am immensely grateful for what modern medicine can do, what the body can endure, and I look forward to a new quality of life. I hope it passes quickly and I can soon bite into something harder. 🙂
Here are some brief milestones and interesting facts:
- I wore braces from March 2024 to August 2025.
- The waiting period for the surgery was three months.
- The worst was the first 5 days.
- I only showered on the fourth day after the surgery, and even then, with help.
- I can't say it hurt; at no point did it actually hurt (because they take care of that), but it was still very unpleasant (I can't quite describe and put the feelings into words), I felt a kind of pressure.
- The adjusted post-surgery eating wasn't as annoying as I expected; I thought it would be even worse (and no, not all food can be blended – you can liquefy it, but certain dishes in liquid form are simply disgusting).
- For the first two weeks, moving my head was very uncomfortable, I only spoke what was absolutely necessary, and bending down was out of the question.
- I had few bruises and quite nice skin; only on the sixth day after the surgery did a yellow bruise appear on my neck and down towards my décolletage – I looked like Spongebob Squarepants.
- I washed my hair for the first time only on the twelfth day after the surgery.
- My body recovered in many ways, I noticed: hair loss, sore tonsils, a million tiny canker sores, tiny pimples all over my face, and my period was late (otherwise I have very regular periods).
- Kissing is extremely strange (because you can't feel your lips), no one mentioned that to me. :)
- I think red light therapy (Mito light) helped with my recovery.
- On the fifth day after the surgery, I could only open my mouth enough to squeeze in a Lekadol, after six weeks I could open it enough to squeeze in a Kinder Bueno.
- The stitches in my mouth healed very slowly, for almost two months.
- Establishing nerve connections takes a very long time; two months after the surgery, I still can't feel my lower lip and chin, but I remain optimistic that the sensation will return.
Thank you all for your kind messages, cheering, and encouragement during this period!