Just a caution. I had several people read this before I submitted it for posting - it's not a traditional horror story, but rather a strike at the core of a hope. It is horrible.

It seemed like a normal doctor's office; diplomas and credentials lined one wall, reference books another, and stacks of paperwork lined a credenza on a third. The desk in the center was also normal - heavy wood, covered in papers and a computer monitor. What broke the normalcy of the scene was the people present. Not one, but two doctors faced the patient.

The patient. Nothing obvious was wrong, but there he sat - not young, not old; slightly heavy-set, and prematurely balding. Again, nothing seemed strange there, but the two doctors faced the patient. One sat behind the desk, one next to it. The patient cleared his throat. "So, there's nothing that can be done?" The doctor behind the desk looked at his papers, made a decision, and looked up with a sad expression. "Nothing, I'm afraid. We've tried everything we can think of, and all the results were the same. You're allergic to all the standard medications, and even the herbal remedies showed similar results." A pause, then the patient asked, "What about surgical intervention?" Another review of the desktop, then, "Contraindicated, at least in this case. Even with surgery, you would have to be on medications that would have similar effects."

The last person, the doctor sitting to the side of the desk, finally spoke. "We know this is a shock to you, and we are both still consulting with colleagues to try to find ways to help you; for now, all that can be done is to assist you in being a bit more comfortable. That's why we are both here together, to try to make sure you understand how serious we both take this, rather than seeing you separately at our normal hours." The patient's head lowered, his gaze pointed down, apparently fascinated by his shoes. "I understand."

The patient stood, nodded to both doctors, turned, and walked slowly out of the room. As his footsteps faded into the distance, the endocrinologist turned to the psychiatrist. "Do you think he's a suicide risk? Transgendered, unable to pass without a lot of help, and being told that he's unable to take androgen blockers, let alone estrogen?" The psychiatrist sighed. "No, he.. she.. won't take the easy way out. She's a devout Catholic." They both sat, thinking of the patient that left, as well as the long years ahead.