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Edited by S.L.Hawke
Image Copyright © 2012 Tracey Willows

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The Taylor Project
 
Chapter Fifty-Nine

Tuesday, March 19th — Taylor Project Day 78

So Aunt Dee Dee knows now. Grandma was a butt-munch again and tried to turn my aunt against me. That blew up in Grandma’s face. Aunt Dee Dee wasn’t buying what Gran was selling and instead took me off to the side, where we had a great talk. She asked good questions about why I wanted to be a girl, and she didn’t judge me. I wish we’d had more time to just talk, but Dad and Julie arrived home about the same time and then the brown stuff hit the rotating blades again.

Actually, Grandma managed to piss off just about everyone – she seems to have a real gift for doing that. First, Aunt Dee Dee and I were already tired of being lectured by her. Then when Dee Dee filled Dad in on how Grandma had gone off on how I was dressed, he was royally pissed. Dad chewed her out again about honoring his wishes. Next it was Julie’s turn. She was upset because she had her own plans for dinner, which did not include Grandma cooking a mini-Thanksgiving with ham, rolls, stuffing and sweet potatoes, plus dessert. Julie didn’t shout. She thanked Grandma in an icily politely way, while still making it crystal clear that this wasn’t Grandma’s kitchen or house any longer.

At the time I loved seeing Grandma get put in her place. However, the fallout was pretty bad. Julie and Grandma’s dispute over the menu carried over into the meal. Julie held up dinner while she prepared extra vegetables. Julie filled up her own dinner plate with the veggies she’d cooked, and pointedly only took tiny portions of what Grandma had made. Suddenly, just picking what to eat felt like choosing sides. While I love ham and stuffing, I followed Julie’s lead and took only small portions of what Grandma had served and large portions of veggies. Aunt Dee Dee and Hailey did the same. Rick and Dad didn’t seem to get it. They took huge helpings of Grandma’s dishes. I don’t think they were picking Grandma’s side; I think they were just clueless. Julie was so not impressed when Rick thanked Grandma for cooking.

Thankfully, Grandma left right after dinner. Hailey and I were tasked to clean the kitchen, which took a while. After dinner I was sent off to do homework, so I didn’t get to spend any more time with Aunt Dee Dee. Not that she stayed much longer anyways. She had to work the next day and left early to drive back to Dallas. She promised to come back again soon on a weekend, the next time she gets one of those off. I hope that happens soon and so I can see her again.

I’m feeling a bit guilty. I still want to be Taylor and I know this isn’t all my fault. The Grandma vs. Aunt Dee Dee thing happened before I was even born. Still, I understand better now what Hailey meant about feeling responsible for breaking her family apart. It wasn’t Hailey’s fault then, and it isn’t my fault now, but I’m still the cause. There are so many rifts in my family right now. I really worry about Dad and Julie. If they break up because of me, I won’t ever forgive myself. If I agreed to be Scotty, then so much of this drama would go away. Dad keeps saying family first. If I put my family first, I’d stay Scotty. Yet, even as I’m writing this, I just can’t do it. I’m just pretending to be Scotty now. Taylor is out, and there is simply no going back.

Why can’t they see that? Grandma is the worst, but even Dad and Julie would really rather I’d just be Scotty. It’s like I was once a caterpillar and now I’m a butterfly. Even if I ripped my wings off, that wouldn’t make me a caterpillar again. I’d just be a crippled butterfly, flightless and pathetic.

It’s still only Tuesday. I don’t have a follow-up appointment with Doc Buford until Friday. They haven’t made the other appointments yet, neither the endocrinologist nor the therapist. Dad and Julie want to talk with Doc Buford first, before they set those up. Back on Sunday, being accepted this much would have been a dream, but I still have to pretend to be Scotty. I’m in limbo again. They want to take things slow, while I’m worried about how much time I have. Too many people know: Reverend Williams, Doc Buford, Cathy’s mother and grandparents, Rick, Dad, Julie, Hailey and probably more. No, certainly more. I left off Aunt Dee Dee.

Chapter Sixty

Wednesday after school I was the first one home again. This time there was no Aunt Dee Dee or Grandma to meet me, just an empty house. Despite the way Grandma had acted, I was disappointed she wasn’t there. Dad had asked her to stay home if she couldn’t be nice. It wasn’t like I needed a babysitter, but it hurt that she didn’t want to see me anymore.

Instead of changing into Taylor mode, I decided to workout. Because of being grounded to my room and Aunt Dee Dee’s visit, I’d fallen behind in my Taylor Project Step Three exercise routine. Oddly enough, I actually wanted to work out, which was a little bit scary. That was too much like Dad and Rick for comfort, but I thought a good run might help me burn off the blahs.

I changed quickly and headed outside. With my allergies and asthma I should probably be jogging inside on a treadmill away from the spring pollens. Unfortunately for that plan, our treadmill was now set up in the barn as our former workout room was now Hailey’s bedroom. There was no point whatsoever in jogging in place in the stale and stuffy air of the barn when I could jog outside with a changing scenery, sun and a breeze. I do enjoy getting outside occasionally – it’s just my allergies that have always driven me back indoors. I did some minimal stretching to avoid cramps, and then hit the road. I had maybe an hour to go jogging if I wanted to be sure I made it home before Dad did. Even though I was out of the closet about being transgendered, I still hadn’t told him about my workouts.

It was a good day to go jogging outdoors. The sun kept playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. Birds sang. Flowers bloomed. Spring had sprung. Appropriate, since it was almost Easter. For me spring also meant pollens in the air, but so far my allergies weren’t so bad. I was really liking my new medication. Maybe I wouldn’t need allergy shots at all? Or maybe my workouts were paying off. I so do not wanna have to admit that possibility to Dad, after all these years of his pushing sports and exercise on me. He's gotten better about that sort of thing the lately, but still... I just don't want to go there, or at least not yet.

As I left our driveway the crunch crunch of gravel beneath my feet turned to the slap slap of my shoes on the blacktop road. I quickly fell into a rhythm, and my mind began to wander. Should I tell my father about my workouts? The original reason for hiding them was probably still true. He’d try to take control, while I wanted to set my own pace. However, given that he’d already shown an open mind to me being transgendered, maybe I actually should tell him? It could be a peace offering. 'See Dad, I’m going to be a girl, but I’m finally exercising.' It was just crazy enough that it might really work.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts, and the steady rhythm of jogging, that I didn’t hear the quiet sound of a bike behind me until it was almost upon me. I hurried cut to my left and into the weed choked drainage ditch to avoid being run over. I was pulled from my musings as I struggled to keep my pace through knee-high foliage. It was only then that I noticed who was on the bike. “Cathy!”

“Taylor!” She grinned at me and braked her bike, hopping off before it had even come to a complete halt. She held it steady with one hand and flung out her other arm wide as the pair continued to move towards me in loose formation.

I went for the hug, although with her just launched off a bike and me stopping dead still, it was more of a collision than a hug. “Ooph!”

“Hi there.” Cathy grinned up at me with one arm wrapped around my waist. Then her other arm went around me. Her bike tumbled over and crashed, and I was suddenly the kissee. I tried to respond like I should, tilting my head, meeting the kiss, but everything felt off. My head wasn’t in a romantic place, but Cathy practically plastered herself onto me. Her lips moved on mine, her tongue darted forth, and her hands began roaming.

It felt nice, but it was also overwhelming and too sudden. I started squirming, and she eased up. I stepped back, and suddenly I was out of her hold. “Glad to see me?”

“Yeah! Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Yes, but…” But what? Honestly, I’d missed Cathy, my friend, a great deal. Walking to the bus, riding to school with her, then riding and walking home again, all of that was a part of my school ritual. Being with Cathy was the bookends of my school day. Yet, it was my friend that I’d missed. With everything that had been going on, I hadn’t missed Cathy, my overeager girlfriend, at all. I suddenly realized then and there, that not only did I not miss it, but I didn’t want it now. Unfortunately, Cathy seemed even more eager than ever before.

Of course, I couldn’t tell her how I really felt that would devastate her. I had to come up with something else to say. “… I was just confused. I thought you were still having trouble with, you know, that I wanted to be a girl.” God, I was lying to her.

Cathy didn’t seem to notice. She was smiling at me with an eager excitement that scared me a little. “Oh, I'm still having trouble with it, but when Mom said that I couldn’t see you… Well, let’s just say that having you taken away from me really made me realize how much you meant to me. I’m really sorry for being a bitch before. I was an idiot.”

“Huh?” How did I get myself into these things? “What do you mean?”

Cathy moved back and picked up her bike. Rather than parking it with its kickstand, she held it with one hand while we talked. “My mother, the past few days since she hasn’t let me see you, has been awful. I’m not all that comfortable with the your-being-a-girl thing, but one thing I have realized – I’m crazy about you. This may end up with us being best girl-pals and BFFs forever. The thought of that makes me wanna break down and cry sometimes, because that’s totally not how I want you. That’s not the point. The point is that I’m not my mother. I won’t turn my back on you no matter what. I like boys, but maybe I can be one of those people where the person they’re with matters more than the gender. Maybe I can’t do that, and we’ll end up bridesmaids at each other’s weddings and buying cute little houses next to each other. I can live with that, but I can’t live without you.”

Wow. How often does someone say that to you? In the movies there would be a happy little love song playing and we’d kiss and be happy. Instead I felt almost swept away by Cathy’s gushing declaration of… love? She hadn’t used the L-word but isn’t that what she’d just said? I fumbled for words. “Um, Cathy, I don’t know how to say this, you are and always will be my friend.” What? No, tell me I did not just channel Spock – this was so not the time for Star Trek quotes. “But I’m trying to figure out who I am at the moment. I don’t even know if I like boys or girls in a sex kinda way. It’s just. It’s...”

“Friends?” She looked liked I’d just kicked her. “I thought we promised to try? That was the deal wasn’t it? I don’t know that I really meant that when I first said it, but I do know now with all my heart. I won’t lose you as a friend, but are you giving up on me as a girlfriend already?”

Shit. Damn. Why did I screw up everything? “Cathy, it’s not that. You’re just coming on too strong. I haven’t seen you in days, and I really really miss my friend. I just need you as that friend right now. I know that I promised to try, and I meant it, but I don’t know who I am. Can we slow down a little? Please?” I was crying. Again. Didn’t the waterworks ever stop? If I was this hormonal on my own, how bad would HRT be? I wiped at my eyes.

“Oh, just slow down.” She might have said it was okay, but her body language still looked like she was hurt. Her smile looked strained as she pulled away. “I can slow down. I guess I did come on a little strong. I’m sorry. I hadn’t seen you in days and I was out riding and you were just there, and it all came spilling out, you know? I do get that you’re in between now, and that you have to sort that out first, but will you just promise to give me a try? That’s all I want; we give it a try. If it doesn’t work then we at least tried, right?”

“Of course, yes, we can try.” I agreed immediately, but it felt more like giving in than because it was what I really wanted. I just couldn’t bear to hurt Cathy. Even more I couldn’t lose her as a friend, not now. I’d torn my family apart. I couldn’t lose Cathy as well. Maybe I could discourage her? “You know when I come out, they’ll call you a lesbian.”

“Already thought of that. Don’t care.” Clearly she didn’t. It bounced right off her.

“Your mother will care.”

“Fuck her.” The words popped right out of her mouth without a blush. I’d seen Cathy accidentally kick a Texas bullnettle once. She’d been rolling on the ground in pain from the horribly stinging glass-like bristles, and all she’d said was ‘Ow, Ow, Owie, Owie’. She never so much as said crap or damn, and she dropped the f-bomb like it was nothing. Apparently she realized she’d shocked me, as when she continued she spoke in a softer tone. “Taylor, what I’ve realized the past few days is that you’re more important.”

“I’ve never been anyone’s more important before.” And while I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, that still felt pretty good.

“Well, you are now.” She paused a moment, then smiled. “Say, we’re not far from your house. How about we go get your bike? Then we can both ride together.”

“I’d like that.”

Chapter Sixty-One

I started out Thursday feeling a bit more hopeful. I still had to pretend to be Scott, but it felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. I think talking to Cathy had helped some, but what really helped was that I only had one day left until my meeting with Doc Buford. Dad and Julie were both going to take time off work and Grandma was not invited. All in all it felt like they were starting to accept me. I’d managed to maintain my optimism all the way through my morning classes. Even though I had to pretend to be Scott, I wasn’t required to do much to maintain my disguise. No one spoke to me except to call roll. I was in my own bubble where I could daydream that I already was Taylor.

Towards the end of Gerstacker’s English class my good mood began to sour. It was almost lunch time. Not so long ago eating lunch with Dave and Lloyd had been the high point of the school day. No teachers or lessons and the guys were a safe harbor from all the bullshit and bullies that I had to dodge throughout the rest of the day. However, we’d been drifting apart for some time. Other than being a social outcast, what did I really have in common with them? Or was it that I was simply dreading having to actively pretend to be Scott? I couldn’t just passively wear the costume and make it through lunch. I’d have to put on his mannerisms and try to talk like a guy. That was feeling more and more like lying. It wasn’t surprising that even Dave and Lloyd picked up on my mood.

I found myself glancing over at Oscar. He was sitting with Tamara and Paula talking and laughing. He usually sat with them and they didn’t seem to mind that he was gay. What would they say if I went over there and joined them? I had Hailey and Cathy, but I wanted to be one of the girls. I wanted to belong. Why was I pretending to be friends with Dave and Lloyd?

“Earth to Snotty, what’s with you today? Is it your stepmom or this new cute stepsister you claim to have?” asked Dave.

“I dunno. I’m just out of it.” Which was true enough, just not all the truth. That had become my unofficial policy the past few days. The Truth, and nothing but the Truth... but not the whole Truth. Telling half-truths was better than lying, but not by much.

“So when do we get to meet Hailey the Hottie?” Dave made it sound like she was something good to eat.

“Friday, maybe. She starts school tomorrow morning, but I’ve got a doctor’s appointment. I don’t know if I’ll be back by lunch or not.”

“They’re going to start her without you around?” He glanced at Lloyd who shrugged. “Well, any day out of school is a good day, right? So what’s going on? More allergy shit?” As soon as he was done talking Dave stuffed the rest of his cheeseburger in his mouth and chewed with bulging cheeks.

“No, it’s something else.” Shit! Damn! Why the hell hadn’t I just lied and said it was allergy stuff?

“Scotty, whaw ifs it?” asked Dave around a mouthful of food. That was gross, but worse was the suspicion in Dave’s eyes.

“Nothing, just some tests and stuff. Nothing big.”

Dave swallowed his food and chased it down with coke. “Just tests? I smell bullshit. You’re not acting like it is nothing.”

Lloyd finally decided to speak. “Yeah, I definitely smell shit of the bull. What’s up, dude?”

Shit, shit, shit! What should I say? It was too late to say it was just allergy stuff. I had to give them something. “It’s my hormones. They’re out of whack. They took a lot of blood and ran a lot of tests, but they don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Whoa, is this serious shit?” Instead of Dave’s usual bullshit and swagger he was showing some real concern.

“Maybe, probably not. There is a chance it is something serious, but most likely I just need the right hormones and…” The words that popped into my head were ‘straighten out’, probably because I’ve heard them enough. However, I didn’t want to be straightened out. “… I’ll be okay with the right hormones.”

“Huh, does this go back to the allergies? Is this why you are sick all the time?”

“I don’t think so. This is something else at least that’s what the doctors say. Hey, can you keep this quiet. I don’t want all the Snotty stuff to start up again.”

Dave nodded. “Yeah, sure, who would we tell anyway?”

Lloyd piped in. “Hey, do you know how to make a hormone?”

“Um, no.”

“Don’t pay her!” Dave chortled as he delivered the ancient joke's punch line, as if it were something new and funny.

I forced a smile. On one hand, I was relieved because things were back to normal. On the other hand his joke was just crude. They often told jokes that weren’t just tacky but offensive. To be fair, they seemed typical examples of eighth grade boys. Out of earshot of teachers my other classmates were just as bad. Why did girls find boys interesting rather than disgusting? I didn’t get it. What did that say about me? Why had I ever attached myself to these two? Was having them as friends really better than having no friends? Except that I did have friends, good friends, best friends forever. I thought of introducing Hailey to Dave and Lloyd, and could just imagine the disaster. “Are you two going to act this way around my sister?”

“Huh, what do ya mean?” asked Lloyd.

“My new step-sister, Hailey, the one we were talking about. When she starts school here, I’m going to eat lunch with her. Are you two going to be like this then? Cracking dirty jokes and talking bullshit?”

“Wow, your sister. It will be so cool to have a stone cold babe eating lunch with us.”

I sighed. I had never described Hailey as a babe or a hottie. I’d used the word cute maybe once in describing her. Somehow in the retelling she’d grown into a goddess. “Hailey’s a nice girl, Dave.”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re all nice girls until they aren’t. Of course we’ll keep it zipped when she’s around. You don’t talk like that to girl’s faces. You gotta be all polite and fake that you’re interested. I’m not going to ask if her if she spits or swallows.”

“Does she?” asked Lloyd. “Does she spit or swallow?”

The original warm blush of embarrassment sunk down into the pit of my stomach and caught flame. “What the fuck? That’s my sister you’re talking about, asshole.”

Lloyd looked about to punch me, but Dave held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, Lloyd was just teasing you. Weren’t you Lloyd?”

“Yeah. Can’t you take a joke?” He didn’t sound at all sorry. He took a sip of his drink while eyeballing me the whole time. It felt like he was daring me to make an issue out of it.

I grabbed my tray and stood up. “I’m outta here.”

“Hey, if you’re not going to eat your brownie, give it to me.” Dave reached out his hand.

I passed it over to him and left. God, I so couldn’t grow up to be a boy. It was so blazingly obvious that I would never belong.

Chapter Sixty-Two

Thursday, March 21st — Taylor Project Day 80

I’m so nervous. Tomorrow we meet with Doc Buford to go over my test results. In this case, we means Dad, me, Julie and definitely not Grandma. That strikes me as a good thing. Julie won’t be riding in with us. She’s taking Hailey in to Pine Hill to register first thing in the morning, but as soon as that is done she’ll join us. I get to stay home, so unfortunately I’ll miss Hailey’s first morning at Pine Hill.

I tried to tell Hailey again that she didn’t have to admit to knowing me at school. It would be bad enough for her to be Snotty’s step-brother. When I finally get to break out as Taylor, it isn’t going to be pretty at school. Hailey shut me down fast. She made it clear that there was no way she was going to disown me and that I’d better drop the step from step-sister. Of course, I got weepy about that and we ended up hugging. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Hailey. To cheer me up, she distracted me for most of the rest of the evening with Dance Dance Revolution.

Considering that I also went bike riding with Cathy right after school for an hour or so, I should be exhausted, but I can’t shut down tonight. I keep worrying about tomorrow. I don’t think it really matters to me if I am Klinefelter's or not. I know that it should matter. After all, strange things are going on in my body. I’ve spent a lot of time reading about XXY and I think it fits me, but diagnosis matters less to me than treatment. As long as I’m allowed to go through female puberty, I’ll be happy.

Then there is everything going on with Cathy. I went bike riding with her again this afternoon and it was fun, but she keeps looking at me like Julie looks at Dad. She’s holding it in and I should give her credit for that, but I really don’t need the pressure to be her boyfriend. I need my friend. I feel like I’m lying to her, but I don’t know how to stop things without hurting her. I think it would help if I was dressed as Taylor. However, her mother is still being a wicked witch. That means I can only see Cathy when we’re both slipping out to ride bikes, and I have to present as a boy then. I wish we could just be friends until I sort out who I am. I promised her that I’d try, but I lied. I’m not really trying. I’m afraid that all this boyfriend/girlfriend pressure is going to cost me Cathy as a friend.

Sorry diary, I lied to you, too. I’m not just nervous. I’m scared. I’m so freaking scared. Dad isn’t exactly in my corner yet. He didn’t rule out therapy, but he hasn’t scheduled an appointment yet either. Doc Buford was all too eager to recommend a good Christian therapist to Grandma. The normal treatment for Klinefelter’s is testosterone shots. What if he recommends that I be given testosterone? Even Julie wants to follow a doctor’s advice. I’m terrified. I’m tired, but I just can’t sleep. I just want to be me. I don’t want to do this wait and hide, wait and hide, jump through the hoops thing, any more.

Chapter Sixty-Three

I’d given a lot of thought about what to wear to see Doc Buford. He already knew, as did Dad and Julie. Maybe wearing a bra and tighter shirt would help me look more female, but there was no telling who else might be in his waiting room. In the end I’d compromised. I was wearing a sports bra and only one shirt that hung loose on me. My boobs were visible if you looked, but not too obvious. As it turned out, there wasn’t anyone I knew in the waiting room, but it wasn’t empty. So I’d made a good choice after all. It still didn’t help my nerves while we waited and waited.

Finally, his nurse opened the door and called us back. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Scott, the doctor will see you now.”

I still wasn’t used to Dad and Julie being Mr. and Mrs., but that was the least of my worries. I followed her back as she led us not to one of the exam rooms, but to what was obviously Doc Buford’s office. I’d never been here before. A large desk dominated a small room. I spotted the expected diplomas on the wall, but the decorations also included family photos and a mounted fish. It looked real instead of one of those awful plastic singing fish. “Um, no exam today?”

The nurse, whose name I still didn’t know, shook her head while placing a file folder on the desk. “Not today. Come inside and have a seat. He’ll be right with you.”

After she left, I sat down in an uncomfortable chair and waited. Julie reached over and patted my hand.

Doctor Buford entered before I could squirm too much. “Thank you for coming in Robert. I haven’t seen you in a while. This must be your lovely new bride.”

Blah, blah, introductions. Doc Buford did his charming country doctor shtick. Enough already. What was going on with me? No, he didn’t tell me. Instead he opened up the file and looked at several different sheets in it, leaving me in suspense as he carefully studied whatever he was looking at. He closed it and looked at my dad. “Let’s cut to the chase. As I suspected from my previous examination, Taylor has Klinefelter’s syndrome.

“I understand.” My dad still looked a little stunned. “Is there any doubt?”

“None whatsoever, the genetic karyotyping shows 47-XXY. Your son has KS.”

“KS? I thought he had…” Then my dad got it. “Oh, KS is Klinefelter's Syndrome.”

“Quite right. Now, I had my suspicions that there was more at work with your son. The other tests I ran have confirmed that your son’s hormone levels are way off where they should be even for Klinefelter's. KS patients often have low testosterone levels, and estradiol to testosterone ratios that are severalfold higher than normal males, but his estrogen levels are elevated far beyond what I would expect even with his condition. Taylor has thirty-four nanograms of testosterone per deciliter, which as expected is a bit low for a pubescent boy, and fifty-seven picograms of estradiol per milliliter – which is a little high even for a girl his age. These are values consistent with female puberty, not male. To reach these levels strongly suggests that your son probably has either an internal or external source of estrogen.”

I nodded along. The numbers were just so much gibberish, but I understood the rest – I was going through female puberty. Did this mean I was even more intersexed than I thought?

Doc Buford fixed me with a hard look. “Taylor, we discussed this before, but we need to go back to it now. Have you been taking any medication, whether prescription, over-the-counter, or herbal, to cause this?”

“What? No, I haven’t. I didn’t even realize that I was transgendered until I started growing breasts. I haven’t taken any medicine but my allergy medicine.”

Doc Buford didn’t seem convinced. “Taylor, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth. If you’re taking anything, now is the time to come clean.”

Dad looked over to me. “Taylor, if you have, just please tell us now.”

I crossed my arms defensively and blinked back tears. “I haven’t. Really, I have not. Please, you hafta believe me – I wouldn't lie about this!”

Dad nodded and looked to Doc Buford. “If my son says he hasn’t, then he hasn’t.”

Doc Buford sighed. “I’ll take his word for it. I had to ask, though, as it was by far the most likely explanation. We’ll need to do more tests. The bloodwork rules out many possible causes. The remaining several causes are all rare, so it may take us some time to get a diagnosis. The first is that Taylor has an ovotestis or an actual functional ovary. We can test for that with ultrasound and a biopsy of his testes.”

I crossed my legs at hearing that. I knew what a biopsy was from my reading, and I was still male enough that the idea of having a needle stuck into my balls scared me. But the other part? I could have an ovary?! That would mean I really was part female...

“What is an ovotestis?” asked Julie.

“It’s hybrid gonadal tissue that has aspects of both ovaries and testes. It isn't really half ovary and half testicle, but I suppose you could think of it that way if it helps you to visualize things. Anyway, it’s unlikely but a possibility perhaps worth investigating at this point.”

Okay, good. Not quite as good as having an ovary but it would still mean I’m part female, right? Surely that would help convince Dad and Julie to let me transition.

“The second possibility that I want to consider is environmental. In particular, there are some pesticides that have been known to have estrogenic properties... umm, feminizing effects. Do you have any pesticides stored on your land? Anything Taylor might have played around, or even with, at a young age?”

Dad looked stricken. “There might be some in the old barn. I’d have to check.”

“You should do so. You can arrange to have your soil tested for them, as well. I’m a doctor, not someone who does that sort of thing, so I don’t know how much that could cost, but it is a possibility that I think you should look into."

Mentally I reviewed what was stored in the old barn. I had played there and I did recall large plastic bags full of something. Maybe it had been fertilizer or potting soil, but it might have been pesticide. Had I done this to myself by playing hide and seek in the barn years ago?

“I’ll check the barn.” Dad didn’t sound very happy. “I’ll make some calls about having the soil tested for pesticides as well. You mentioned there were several possibilities, is that it or is there a third one?”

“Yes, Taylor’s allergy medicine. We received a copy of his prescriptions from your allergist and I now know he’s on Prednisone for his asthma.” He paused and gave my father a stern look. “That’s really something I should have been informed about when you brought him in for that cold. Prednisone is a steroid and lowers his immune system, as well as being potentially dangerous when used with some specific antibiotics, although fortunately not the one I gave him back in January. Anyway, I didn’t know it then, but I do now, so we can avoid that issue in future. More to the point right now, it is rare, but Prednisone can cause gynecomastia and other related effects.”

“A steroid?! Why aren’t you looking at this as the primary cause? Bodybuilders who abuse steroids grow boobs. Why the hell do they prescribe that to children and not say anything?”

Doc Buford shook his head. “Different kind of steroids. Bodybuilders use anabolic steroids, which are all androgenic, chemically related to testosterone. Those can be metabolized in the body to form estrogen. If Scott was on something like that he might have elevated estrogens, but he’d also have more testosterone in his system. Prednisone is a corticosteroid. It’s structurally similar, but chemically unrelated in the sense that it is down a different enzyme synthesis pathway, with no easy way of converting one into the other.”

“But, it is still a steroid and still might be what is causing Scotty’s manboobs?”

“Slow down, Robert. I can understand your being upset, but this is just one possibility. Also, your son doesn’t have manboobs. He has Tanner stage three breast growth. He is developing true breast tissue. There is a possibility that it is his allergy medicine causing this, but it is very unlikely – so rare a side effect that gynecomastia is not even listed on many of the usual warning sheets for that product, although there are a few documented cases under unusual circumstances. Regardless, I’d recommend weaning off the Prednisone just to be sure.”

“Why wean him off? If there is even a chance that it is his allergy medicine causing this, he can stop taking it effective immediately.”

“No.” Doc Buford was surprisingly firm. “That would be very dangerous. Prednisone is addictive. Taylor has been on Prednisone for five months now. It is likely that his body isn’t producing enough natural cortisol to function without that medicine. If he quit Prednisone cold turkey, he could go into adrenal shock. He could pass out, slip into a coma, and even death is possible from it if not treated properly. Prednisone is a very serious medication. His dosage will need to be slowly tapered off before it can be discontinued.”

“Death?” Dad had been working up to a good mad, but that was gone now. “Why wasn’t I told how serious this medication was?”

I had to agree with Dad. Death was pretty scary. Then again it didn’t have to be, or at least not so long as I didn’t quit the pills. Really, was it any different than carrying an inhaler in case of asthma attacks and an EpiPen in case I got stung by a bee?

Doc Buford shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to your allergist and pharmacist about that. Honestly, I wouldn’t have prescribed Prednisone to a preadolescent. It has other side effects that are more common, like stunting growth. It’s a serious medication, but all common and even most rare side effects should have been listed in the drug facts sheet, which is always included with all medication's these days – even far less potent ones. Also, I should point out that from what I’ve seen it has been highly effective at controlling his asthma. According to his respiratory peak flow measurements, he is staying in his green zone. Have you made an appointment with an endocrinologist yet? I’m tossing out possibilities, but Taylor’s hormones are not normal even for a KS patient. He needs to see a specialist.”

“We’ve picked one out,” said Julie. “We have an appointment Thursday next week.”

What? When were they planning to tell me about that?

“Good. Anyway, as long as Scott continues his current course of Prednisone he is in no immediate danger. Indeed, from what he’s described it has been very effective in controlling his asthma, which is a far more medically serious issue than his gynecomastia and hormone imbalances. As awkward as his breast development may be, it is not life-threatening in any way. At worst, the risk is that Scott appears to be going through female puberty. Unless action is taken promptly he will probably continue to experience changes to his body. His breast growth is merely the most obvious symptom, and the most reversible. Due to his age and stage of pubertal development, his bones will be growing in important ways soon, if they have not already begun to do so. Such changes to skeletal structure are more lasting and permanent.”

Booya! Yes! I wanted to get up and do the Snoopy dance. I thought that I was on a time limit, that my male hormones would reassert and I’d grow more masculine. If Doc Buford was right, then stalling was actually to my benefit. The longer things went on as is, the better it was for me.

“Can you do anything to halt that?” asked Dad.

Doc Buford shook his head. “If this was simply a case of Klinefelter’s Syndrome, then I’d recommend starting him on testosterone.”

“No! I don’t want testosterone!” Yeah, he said if, but I wasn’t going to let that be unchallenged.

Doc Buford sighed. “I’m not recommending it. Frankly, I don’t understand why his estrogen levels are so high. I’ve offered some possibilities, but he needs to see a specialist. I would not recommend giving him any kind of hormones until we have a complete diagnosis. However, that being said, I think a diagnosis of being transgendered is premature.”

My father sat up straighter. “Why is that?”

“I’m very much aware of Scott’s preferences in this matter, but that kind of decision shouldn’t be made until his hormone imbalance is corrected and he has experienced normal male hormone levels for several months. If at that point he still feel that he should be a girl, and if a therapist concurs, then perhaps he could be put on a course of hormone replacement therapy.”

There was so much in there that I didn’t know where to respond. Being on male hormones for months would mean going the exact opposite direction from where I wanted to be.

“So you’re saying the female hormones in his system could be responsible for his recent behavior?” asked Dad. He seemed eager all of a sudden.

“His estrogen levels could certainly be influencing his thought processes. Estrogen may be a hormone found naturally in the human body, but it is also a psychoactive drug. Which is to say, it crosses the blood-brain barrier and can affect brain function, potentially resulting in changes of behavior, mood, or even cognition.”

I had a hard time not jumping up out of my seat. “Then I like my thought processes influenced, thank you very much. I want to stay Miss Jeckle! I do not want to be shot full of male hormones and turned into Mr. Hyde!”

“Taylor,” my dad said exasperatedly with that almost growl which warned that I was maybe two seconds from being in big trouble.

“Taylor, please calm down,” added Julie with a voice that was both composed and reasonable. “Doc Buford, is that a psychological diagnosis you are qualified to make? Or should we take Taylor to a therapist?”

“As I told Beatrice last week, any child who professes a strong belief that they are of the wrong gender should definitely see a therapist. Now that KS has been confirmed, that is a second reason he should see a therapist. A comprehensive psychoeducational evaluation to identify any learning disabilities is standard practice for Klinefelter's patients.”

I felt a little insulted by the learning disability crack. I was no Brainiac, but I was a good B average student. Still, it wasn’t worth fighting. I’d just received the green light for the therapy I wanted. This was a time to shut up.

“Good, we have an appointment for Tuesday night with Dr Yeatts.”

Appointment? What appointment? Why did nobody tell me anything? I kept my lips zipped, though, as I recognized that name. Dr. Yeatts was good news. She wasn’t a ‘good Christian therapist’. She was the therapist that Julie and Hailey had seen.

"I’m not familiar with Dr. Yeatts. Is he a psychiatrist?”

“She,” said Julie with emphasis, “is a psychologist.”

Neener-neener. Better her than a good Christian therapist any day.

“Then she can’t prescribe medication, but I’m sure she will be able to work with an endocrinologist.”

 

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To Be Continued...