The Price of 'Progress', Part Ii

The words struck cold fear in my heart. What was I to do? I didn’t know. This was not supposed to happen, so back to the doctor did I go, and the words he told me there were just another heavy blow: Male puberty’s window had passed, It was too late, he could not grow. He’d never be a normal man, but he no longer felt female, and many nights I heard my son’s low, mournful and piteous wail, And my poor wife was in tears too, convinced that somehow she had failed. she’d go from sure she had done wrong, to a lunatic who just railed. Dan made it just a few more months, then I walked in and found him dead in his bedroom…he’d slit his wrists, the very bed-sheets were stained red. I just stood there, to stunned by it to push any thoughts through my head, but my wife saw and screamed her grief, then right out of the house she fled. I haven’t seen her since the day of my beloved son’s suicide, heard nothing of where she went, if she’s still here, or if she’s died. Even worse, I went online, and found people who testified that such an end was too common… the doctors and ideologues lied. Huge numbers of ‘trans’ people had later renounced their ‘new-found’ sex, many people grew out of it before they had their body’s wrecked. Forty to fifty-six percent suicide rate, what the heck? Why had they never mentioned this? Why had they all tried to deflect? If the world knew these problems lurked why did they go and celebrate something that went and killed people at such a remarkable rate? Did people want to ‘belong’ so much they’d give cover to this awful fate? Were the lives of their own loved ones worth less then accusations of 'hate?' Evil as these ‘omissions’ were I knew something that made me cold. I had left myself believe it all, I had accepted what I was told. I’d so believed my politics that I had left myself be sold on ideas known as pure bullsh-t to any random three-year-old. It’s my fault for allowing this, this is something I must address, I cannot live with this knowledge, it has left me a broken mess. Please, tell my parents they were right, that common sense is usually best. Ruined families and shattered lives are the price we pay for ‘progress.’ …Bang.