Why do braces seem to work for everyone else, except me?

This can be an all too familiar question for people with undiagnosed condylar resorption. I ruminated over this same question while seated at the orthodontist, about to begin braces for the third time in my life at age twenty-five. Despite wearing multiple sets of retainers, the familiar anterior open bite had returned. Unhappy and embarrassed with the increasing gaps between my upper and lower teeth, I was determined to, once again, fix my occlusion.

Finding Human Connection Throughout Chronic Illness 

I did not grow up as a sick child, something I now wish I’d never taken for granted. Although I can see the red flags of idiopathic condylar resorption (ICR) starting when I was as young as twelve years old, I didn’t really come face to face with the reality of chronic illness until my late teens and early twenties. That’s when managing my worsening symptoms became a daily chore, when treatment after treatment failed, and I had growing suspicions that this was so much more complex and so much worse than I had ever imagined. 

“Idiopathic condylar resorption (ICR)”...
If you would have asked me what that was 6 years ago, I would have had no idea. I would soon come to realize what a huge impact ICR would have on my life as a young woman -- physically, emotionally, and mentally. When I was twenty years old back in 2016, I began having occasional cracking in my right TMJ. It would happen in the mornings when I woke up, I would be so tight, and I would have to force my jaw open just to open my mouth - resulting in a crack that could be heard from across the house. This cracking turned into soreness, which turned into facial fatigue, then all-out pain and dysfunction by the time 2018 hit.

My name is Madison Rondinone. I am 22 years old and I’ve been diagnosed with idiopathic condylar resorption for approximately 8 years now. When you live with a chronic medical condition, the physically obvious factors are often at the forefront of what is acknowledged and discussed. The mental effects of chronic illness are not as commonly talked about, but they are just as important. Any disease that impacts the appearance of the face, such as degenerative joint disease of the TMJs, is known to have broad psychological impacts [1]. I found this to be true of my experience, too — I have slowly watched the structure of my jaw and face shift, and with every additional change I recognize myself less and less, leading to increased mental and emotional distress.

In the years leading up to my diagnosis and eventual treatment of condylar resorption (CR), I suffered from what I now recognize as depression and severe anxiety, and I’ve noticed this is a common experience across other CR patients, too. I hope that sharing my experience will help people feel less alone and emphasize the importance of reaching out for help and support.

My condylar resorption story is a bit different compared to younger patients. My resorption was the result of bad luck and bad physics spanning 6 decades. I was a little kid with big teeth and not enough room in my mouth. Treatment at that time was extraction of teeth to “make room”.

It doesn’t seem to be a unique experience that those with condylar resorption, whether diagnosed or just knowing deep down there is something very wrong, must travel a long and arduous road to receive medical care. Until recently, I had undiagnosed and largely unmanaged condylar resorption that started in my teenage years.

It has been almost ten years since I was diagnosed with idiopathic condylar resorption, and almost three since I underwent complex orthognathic surgery. It has been a nightmare to say the least, but never did I anticipate that the experience of relapse would prove more destabilizing than condylar resorption itself. The only consolation I can give myself is that my experience may serve as a warning to others; to question everything and speak up.

“Shoulders back!”

“Straighten up!”

If you have condylar resorption (CR), it’s likely you’ve heard these reminders before. Poor posture is extremely common in those with CR and is a pretty good example of how CR can have systemic consequences. So, why do people with CR struggle to maintain correct posture? The answer: they’re just trying to breathe!

It’s hard to remember a time when condylar resorption wasn’t a part of my life.

As a young child, I did not experience any jaw or bite issues. I’ve spent way too much time looking back on pictures from those early years to try to piece together when this all started.