My sister a dentist my brother a doctor

Scott's dental checkup

SCOTT'S POV

Walking into Taylor's office, I felt the weight of my nerves settle over me like a heavy blanket. The familiar smell of antiseptic and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above only seemed to amplify my anxiety. I could feel my heart rate pick up as we walked past the waiting area, my palms growing clammy with each step. As soon as we entered, the reality of the situation hit me full force. I was about to have my tooth checked by Taylor,my daughter, who was now a fully qualified dentist. It felt surreal, and I couldn't quite shake the unease. Taylor, always perceptive, noticed my sudden shift in demeanor. Her eyes softened, and she gave me an understanding look, sensing the anxiety I was trying to hide.

"Would anyone like to go first so I don't have to choose?" she asked, her voice gentle but professional, as though trying to ease the tension.

No one responded right away. I could tell that everyone else was feeling a bit of nervousness, too. We all knew that this was going to be uncomfortable, but no one seemed eager to be the first one to face it. Taylor sighed and sensing that it was likely going to be me, turned to me directly.

"Dad, you seem super anxious right now. Do you want to just get it over with?" she asked, her tone both empathetic and firm.

I hesitated, glancing nervously at the chair in the corner of the room.

"Not really," I muttered, not sure if I was ready to sit in that chair and let my daughter go to work on my mouth.

"I promise I won't hurt you," Taylor said, her voice soft but reassuring. "Besides, I know you've been dealing with that toothache for a while now. It's best to get it checked out before it gets any worse."

I looked back at the chair, then back up at her, the dread growing in my chest. I wasn't sure what to expect what if it hurt? What if there was something worse going on? I felt a knot in my stomach at the thought.

"You'll be fine, I promise," she added with a gentle, almost motherly smile, as if trying to comfort me even though she was the one who'd be doing the procedure.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. There was no getting out of this. With one final exhale, I walked over to the chair, my legs a little wobbly. I sat down, and immediately, I felt like I was trapped. The reality of it all hit me like a ton of bricks. Taylor began to lean me back slowly, and I could feel the tension in my body building as she adjusted the light above me, directing it straight into my mouth. She donned a pair of gloves and pulled out her mask, then sat down on her stool, looking at me with a reassuring, yet professional demeanor. I couldn't help but stare up at her in fear, the whole situation feeling so wrong so unsettling.

"It's okay, Dad," she said softly, seeing the nerves on my face. "We'll take this nice and slow."

Seeing her like this completely in charge, confident, and calm was such a shift from the daughter I used to worry about when she was little. She was now the one in control, and that alone was enough to make me uneasy.

"Alright, first we're just going to take a really quick look and see what's going on," she continued, grabbing a couple of instruments from the tray beside her.

"Can you open your mouth for me?" Taylor asked, her voice filled with sympathy as she leaned in, her tools glinting under the bright light.

I hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard as I tried to steady myself. With a deep breath, I opened my mouth just enough for her to slip the instruments inside.

"Can you open a little wider for me?" she asked, her tone still gentle, but there was a firmness to it that let me know she was taking this seriously. "I just need to get a good look at what's going on."

I opened my mouth wider, feeling the tension in my shoulders, in my entire body. I could hear her working, her tools gently moving around inside my mouth, but all I could think about was how vulnerable I felt with my daughter so close to me in this capacity. The sound of her tools against my teeth seemed louder than usual, echoing in the silence of the room.

"Okay," she said, after what felt like an eternity. "You've got a bit of a cavity here. Nothing too bad, though. We'll just go ahead and fill that up for you, and you'll be all good."

She paused, removing the instruments from my mouth, and I instinctively tried to pull away, my mind racing with excuses.

"Um, actually, I think I'm okay," I said nervously, trying to sit up and get out of the chair. "It doesn't hurt that much anymore."

"I still say it's still important to get it fixed," she replied, catching me before I could move and pulling me back down. "Even if it isn't bothering you right now, leaving it untreated could make things worse down the road."

I didn't want to hear that. I wanted to get out of this chair, pretend everything was fine, and forget about the whole thing. But she wasn't having it.

"Dad, I know you're trying to get out of this right now," she said, her voice kind but firm. "But you need to understand it's still important to get it fixed so it doesn't get any worse."

I sighed, feeling cornered.

"Can't you just pull it?" I asked, hoping for an easier, quicker solution.

"I could," she said, "but that's a lot more work. Plus, if I pull it, we'd need to do an implant to replace it, especially since it's in the front of your mouth. That would be a lot more painful and complicated than just getting a filling."

I gulped, the idea of an implant sounding far worse than a filling.

"A filling isn't that bad, Dad," Austin chimed in, offering a supportive smile from the side of the room.

"Yeah, cause you'd know," Taylor teased lightly, a smirk tugging at her lips.

I looked from one to the other, feeling even more out of my element. The thought of a needle going into my mouth, even for a filling, made my stomach turn.

"You'll be fine," Taylor said again, her tone soft but filled with confidence. "It'll be super quick. I'm just going to numb you a little bit, and then we'll get started."

I swallowed hard, feeling my throat tighten.

"Do we have to numb me?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"That depends," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Do you want to feel it?"

I sighed, resigned. "No."

"Then I'm going to numb you," she said firmly, already reaching for the tools she needed.

I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself for whatever was about to happen. It was going to be fine, I told myself. It had to be. I was in good hands, my daughter's hands, even if that was still hard to fully accept.