Personal Narrative: My First Major Surgery

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I turn off my alarm at 4:30 a.m. and stumble tiredly into the bathroom to get ready. When I am done I make my way into my parent’s room so my mom can braid my hair in double French braids. This soothing and familiar action helps to relax my nerves a little, but my grumbling stomach reminds me of how, in a few hours, I will be recovering from my first major surgery.
On Christmas Eve two years prior, I had an appointment with my orthodontist to take X-rays and molds of my teeth and to consult with me and my parents about what my orthodontic treatment plan was going to look like. I expected everything to be normal: get my braces on, deal with them for a couple years, maybe wear rubber bands for a couple months, and then the wondrous day would come when I would have my braces removed. My oldest brother Steven had needed headgear and four years of braces along with a corrective jaw surgery, but my dad had assured me that he didn’t think I had the same problems that
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I didn’t think the surgery was necessary, and I had never thought of my “jaw problems” as problematic before. I remembered when my brother Steven had the same surgery a few years prior, and I did not want to see myself go through the same thing that I had witnessed him go through. My grandmother had even flown in from Las Vegas to help out after his surgery (though I suspect that she just wanted an excuse to come and see us). However, I was told that this surgery would fix my jaw problems, and without this correction those prevailing issues would have led to greater ones further down the road. I made a mature decision that day when I decided that even though this was scary and I didn’t want to do it, I knew that a couple months of recovery would be worth getting rid of the complications of a jaw defect and the risk of greater problems later in