
Bottom: A CT scan of a kid with Parotitis. From the New England Journal of Medicine.
One of the biggest figures I associate with jazz during the 20th century is Louis Armstrong. Known for his quite exquisite trumpet playing and great scatting, I've actually associated him with another distinctive visual quality:
BIG CHEEKS.
February 2009. I remember logging into the New England Journal of Medicine website to start to see what the world of truly revolutionary science could be. I came across that day an article with a title was simple (at least more simple than I'd expect from a medical journal): A Tuba Player with Air in the Parotid Gland. Keeping it simple, the parotid gland is one of the glands that's critical for producing your saliva in your mouth.
When playing the tuba, one of life's truest physical properties comes true: If something gets trapped, it needs a way out. Playing the tuba requires physical air pressure in your mouth to get the instrument to play. However, because 1) blowing against a tuba (or other wind instrument) creates air resistance, and 2) Your body has locked the air in the oral cavity (keeping it simple again, your mouth), there's only one other way for that air to go... the force to play that instrument actually flies down the tubes that connect your mouth to the glands that produce saliva. The scientific name of this phenomenon is: pneumoparotid.
With the origin of the name including that for "air" (pneumo-), this diagnosis stays true to its name. The air that gets blown into those glands gets trapped, resulting in enlargement of the glands, with enlargements appearing around the point where your jaw pivots to open: the place that the glands are located.
Hence: Big Cheeks.
Folks, I guess I can come to this conclusion: If your kid can't play the tuba, your kid might be able to pull off the look.
Source: Mukundan, J. and O. Jenkins. 2009. A Tuba Player with Air in the Parotid Gland. New England Journal of Medicine Vol 360. p.710.
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