With Those Who Know Secret Things (Griff)

[Hart Kenney]

There are times when secrets, no matter how carefully guarded, must be disclosed.

Medical concerns are one of those times.

Some people didn't keep their transition secret, of course. Those people liked to use words like stealth and closeted to refer to people like Hart, a fact he didn't appreciate. He didn't want attention or to be thought of as some sort of freak, and so he wasn't going to go around telling everyone that he was transgender. That was for people he trusted, people he knew well.

And for his doctor.

A new doctor, in fact, one he'd never been to before and had no reason to trust except that the local LGBT yellow pages had listed him as someone to be trusted. The reviews were all good, though Hart was a little discouraged that nowhere at all did he see anything about trans issues. None of the doctors had any mention of them, actually.

Well. Pilot Ridge was a small town; as large as the LGB population was he might very well be the only T. Or else they were also all stealth.

The difficulties of a community in hiding.

In any event, the reason he needed a new doctor was simple: His prescription for testosterone was running out, and as testosterone was a controlled substance he wasn't going to just traipse up to a pharmacy desk and ask for it over the counter.

He needed a prescription, and Dr. Jones was the most likely person to give it to him.

So long as he accepted ancient therapists notes, but it ought to be obvious by this point that going off T would not really be that helpful. Really unless Dr. Jones was a terrible bigot (and the reviews had implied this was the opposite of true) then he ought to have no trouble at all.

So he signed in at the front desk, filled out a massive amount of paper work about his medical history, handed it back to the receptionist and then flopped into a chair in the waiting area, reading a rather ragged looking copy of Forbes magazine that was under the desk. It had probably been manhandled by sick people, but he didn't care. It was still something to look at while he waited for his name to be called.

There were only a handful of other people there, so he expected this to be sooner rather than later. After all, other doctors than Jones worked here so they couldn't all be seeing the same physician.

[Dr. Griffin Jones]

When Griffin Jones had received a call about a transgendered gentleman who was currently on hormone treatment and needed a transfer to a doctor surgery in Pilot Ridge, he knew he would have to handle it with the utmost delicacy. There was to be no muddling of pronouns, and Mr. Kenney was, for all intents and purposes, a male. He had sorted the file and gone through all the paperwork with a cup of coffee and taken in every detail.

First of all, he needed to find a local therapist to continue walking Hart through his testosterone and any further emotions that may arise. Second of all, he needed to keep things as private as possible (not that he would blab, more that he didn't want the receptionist chitterchattering, or the pharmacist giving any trouble). He also needed to do the normal tests for comfortable body change and general health, but he was sure Mr. Kenney knew this already.

He called through to reception after tidying up after the last patient - a gentleman with an alarmingly large boil - and sat in his chair. This would be one of the rare occasions he could put some of his less used training to practice. The last person who had gender problems had been a very lovely set of Gestalts in Kocher, who were insistant they were women, despite being men. Though - they'd been much younger and there had been complications with parents.

He glanced up out of his thoughts when his patient walked in, and he gestured to one of the chairs. "Please, Mr. Kenney, take a seat." His smile was warm and genuine - and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

[Hart Kenney]

At Dr. Jone's direction Hart seated himself, crossing his legs and leaning back, showing no signs of discomfort despite the fact that he was at a doctor's office and was disclosing personal information. The truth was that in medical matters he was far too used to this.

"Nothing's the matter," He answered, because he wasn't ill, unless being born in the wrong body counted as an illness. But he had largely overcome that; this was maintenance more than anything else at this point.

"I just need a prescription refilled, I'm sure you know how that is. Have to have the doctor's say yes, I still can have it and all that fun stuff."

He'd gone through this before and would go through it again.

"You're supposed to be good." He added with a shrug. "You know, with this kind of thing."

After a second he realized there were multiple interpretations of that statement and clarified, "Not with filling out prescriptions." He gave the doctor a wry smile. "So I thought I would give you a try. I've been a slacker about finding a doctor, been here a few months already and only just decided to find one because I'm almost out. I know, you can go ahead and fuss at me. Not thinking, I guess. I wasn't sure how easy it would be to find someone trans friendly in such a small town, but you have a good rep with the gay crowd so I figure you must know your gender stuff too."

He had his fingers crossed.

"So, uhh, that's all I'm here for. Not sick or injured. Easy for you, right?"

[Dr. Griffin Jones]

"Ah yes, alright." Griff said warmly, glancing back to the notes on the computer and quickly typing up a short line on the date of a new prescription. He thought he'd ask about health anyway, since the man was already here - no point in just ploughing in with no sense. Turning in his chair to better face Hart, he rested his hands on his lap.

He blinked in surprise when he was told he was supposed to be good with this sort of thing, and pushed a hand through his hair. "Really? I don't think anyone who doesn't have the same problem is good with it, but I do understand and I want you to be as comfortable in your body as anyone else." A smile was offered then, and he nodded briefly. "I've had experience with GID, however, so you aren't my first patient."

He braced the chair with his hands and leant forward to give Hart a clear eye, then nodded once more. "Alright Mr. Kenney, I'll fill it out as soon as I've done the routine checks to make sure the drug is being kind to you." Griff pulled out the blood pressure testing machine from the back of his desk. "Any unusual symptoms? Pain in the lower abdomen, or muscle fatigue?" He listed them off as he gestured for Hart to roll up his sleeve. "I'll just test your blood pressure and heart rate, then I'll get this printed off."

Sliding the armband over Hart's bared arm, he pressed the button and hummed to himself as it did it's job, typing up a few more little bits on Hart's file. Noting down the blood pressure - it was normal - he flashed a big honest smile over. "Now, would you like me to find you a new therapist in the nearest city to talk to once a month about any changes or problems? I'd be happy to cross that bridge for you." He stood and pressed the cold metal of the stethoscope onto Hart's back, pausing to glance at his watch.

"A healthy heart rate too, Mr. Kenney, I'm sure you're pleased to hear that." He quickly typed that up on the computer too, then pressed his fingers together to look expectantly at Hart.

[Hart Kenney]

Hart shook his head in answer to all the questions the doctor shot at him. He had no problems at all, not medical, in any event. Dr. Jones probably couldn't help him patch things up with his family, stop his sister from suing her daughter's school, or figure out how to ignore his attraction to his coworker.

"Yeah, well, not this specifically. LGBT stuff, though. HIV. That kind of thing. Figured if you could handle the first three letters in that community, you'd be familiar enough with all the gender and sexuality stuff to not be a total prick."

Of course, he had no idea that Dr. Jones was a member of said community. Membership wasn't the business of the world at large and he wasn't going to ask because all he cared about was that the good doctor was understanding and open minded enough to help him. Or at the very least he would be willing to write a prescription, even if the motivation was solely desire to have another patient.

So far, however, Dr. Jones seemed incredibly nice.

"Oh, yeah, probably a good thing to not die of heart failure I guess." He grinned. He hadn't been the least bit worried about his blood pressure; he'd never had a problem before so he didn't see why he would suddenly obtain one, not when he tried to keep in general good physical condition.

"So therapists, huh? Guess I'd have to go to Burlington for one of those." He mused, rubbing his chin in thought. That would be kind of a pain, interrupting his day just to drive to the city to talk about things he'd already decided and acted upon. It wasn't like he could (or would) change his mind. But having someone professional to talk to, someone with whom he could share all his secrets without fear of judgment, had proven helpful before, so after a moment's thought he shrugged. "Yeah, might as well, if you know someone you think would be good."

[Dr. Griffin Jones]

Hm? He was known for being good in the LGBT department? Already? Looked as though his reputation went before him. That caused Griff to grin awkwardly, and he moved a few bits and bobs, just to make sure the file was entirely up to date. "Any doctor who judges someone for any condition shouldn't be a doctor, though..." He trailed off and looked a little concerned. "I do struggle to sympathise with those who get drunk repeatedly and clog up emergency rooms."

"Well, you do seem in the peak of fitness." He said warmly, popping up the prescription screen. "Do you have an old physicians note, to confirm the prescription?" He began typing eagerly up on the screen, then looked over. "And how has the drug helped, if you don't mind my asking?" He broached the topic gently, pausing in the rhythmic tapping of keys.

When asked about therapists, Griff opened a cabinet, flicking through quickly and looking up the particular section and flicking through pamphlets. "Hmm, yes, I think the best people are in Burlington, though this particular therapist also does monthly visits to the local hospital." Pulling the paper out, he rubbed his beard and nodded. "Doctor Caroline Jessop, apparently a very popular woman for gender identity and similar related problems. I'll refer you to her after I've had a chat with her. No point in referring you if she turns out to be ... less sensitive."

"Alternatively, you can pop in for a chat with me. Though I'll admit my experience with GID is pretty limited, I've only really experienced two patients in my time with those particular issues. Whichever you feel most comfortable with, Mr. Kenney." He nodded his head, then began tapping out the prescription once more.

Griff paused, and added encouragingly. "The testosterone has really worked, at least in my opinion. I wouldn't have known your born gender if I hadn't had the file up."

[Hart Kenney]

Hart reached into his pocket, pulling out a much folded and unfolded slip of paper. "Yeah." He confirmed, handing the note to Dr. Jones. He was a bit disappointed, really, that the note was requested; he thought at this point in his life his prescription ought to be taken for granted. Ah, well, this was what happened when one required regulated substances for the improvement of one's life.

"How has it helped? Oh, gosh, let me count the ways. It's made all the difference in the world, even more than the surgery did." He laughed, because hormones and the changes they could wreak were nothing short of astonishing. Voice, fat distribution, hirsuteness, libido, muscle and bone mass...the list went on. "The only thing it hasn't done is make me grow taller. I don't suppose you have any suggestions there..." He added with a grin. Probably not; the doctor was taller than he, but not by very much.

"Caroline Jessop." He repeated. While he appreciated that Dr. Jones was willing to talk with her for him, he wanted to remember that name so he could do his own research on her. "I wouldn't want to take up so much of your time, Dr. Jones." He protested at the offer to talk to the GP. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer but I'm sure you're busy doing your own job, you don't need to take on therapy, too."

The reassurance caused him to raise an eyebrow, but he smiled anyway, because it was meant kindly. "Thanks. The testosterone does help with.." He hesitated before finishing with, "passing."

It wasn't a term he was all that comfortable with; he felt it implied he was hiding, pretending to be something he wasn't, but he couldn't come up with a better way to articulate the fact that everyone he met assumed he was cisgendered.

"I've been on it long enough, anyway, it had better have had an effect. The top surgery didn't..help the same way. Didn't need it for the public since I was binding a long time before transitioning, but that' a real pain in the ass." And now his body was somewhat more in line with what he expected and wanted to see when he was in private.

"Thanks for taking the time to see me."

[Dr. Griffin Jones]

Scanning over the prescription note, Griff found it all to be in order, even if it was a little old, and nodded to himself. It all seemed perfectly above board, and he had no problem printing out the little prescription on the printer and setting it down on the desk. He quickly signed the bottom, then tweaked his lips into a grin, kindly wrinkles setting round his eyes once more. "There, that's six months supply, then I'd like to see you again for another routine check up."

When Hart listed off all the ways the drug had helped, Griff couldn't help but smile. It was wonderful that medicine and research had given this man the chance to be comfortable in his own skin. He'd read the suicide rate on GID, and it wasn't a happy figure. "I'm glad it's helped, that's what it's there for after all. As for height, the only non-surgery thing I can think of is a nice pair of cuban heels, otherwise it's the practice of breaking and stretching bones, which is one of the most frightful practices I think possible." He winced a little.

"And thank you, I don't mind speaking on a monthly basis with you, but as I said, my advice is limited and I'm sure Caroline could do a far better job at reassuring you than I. I'll give you a call during the week if I may, to give you my thoughts on her and perhaps draft up a proper referral letter."

Griff frowned at the term "passing", and shook his head. "I don't think of it as passing, more being. You are not passing for a man, you're being a man." Another smile, then a deep sigh. "Anyway, I'm glad to have been a help to you. If there's anything at all you'd like help with, I can do my very best."

He nudged over the prescription and stretched. "And don't thank me, I'm a doctor, it's what I'm here for."