Between Love and Medicine

Curing Samuel

And so, we began secretly dating.

After graduating from high school, we even chose to enter universities in the same city.

When our acceptance letters arrived, Samuel, filled with excitement, pulled me along as we entered a love hotel for the first time in our lives.

At the hotel, which only cost us 30 per night, we experienced the forbidden fruit.

But something went wrong with Samuel. His body didn't respond as it should.

That evening, we had our heads bowed over our phones as we looked up every website we could find for a possible solution. In the end, we concluded that he had dysfunction.

For a man, being unable to perform felt like a death sentence.

Samuel was a proud man.

Based on the medical advancements of that time, the chances of curing such an embarrassing disorder were low. He was very resistant to the idea of getting treatment as well.

That night, he was stuck between being mortified and humiliated.

"Hannah, let's break up. I… I can't get it up. You'll end up hating me."

However, young love was as perfect and long-lasting as the stars.

I walked over and tilted his head up so that I could stare into his eyes.

"It's okay, Samuel. You still have me. I'm going to study medicine, and I'll cure you."

His face flushed deeply.

"Tell me. If I'm your doctor, will you accept treatment?"

His eyes sparkled as he looked back into my eyes.

"I will!"

He was blushing hard as he wrapped his arms tight around me.

"Hannah, only you can be my doctor."

And so, when I entered university, I switched from studying finance to studying medicine.

The drastic change in my degree meant I had to work ten times harder than anyone else. Still, I chose that hellish path for Samuel's sake.

Four years later, I entered post-graduate studies. As for my specialty, I chose urology—specifically male urology, a field few women ventured into.

My mentor tried to dissuade me.

"Hannah, you are an exceptionally talented student, but your gender will limit you. I'm not saying you can't do it, but you're choosing a path that will make you work even harder than your peers. You'll face discrimination and prejudice."

Back then, I wasn't afraid of prejudice. My only goal was to cure Samuel.

With a family background in medicine, I had a natural talent for it.

After a year of internship at the hospital, my seniors and I succeeded in our research for minimally invasive treatments for male reproductive disorders that worked with the support of psychological intervention.

Samuel became our first patient.

It was also the first time I operated on someone. My hands trembled with nerves, but Samuel, lying there on the operating table, encouraged me.

"Hannah, be brave. I'm already useless in that area. If I'm cured, we'll get married. If not, I won't be a burden to you."

As the operating lights turned on, I reminded myself to be brave. It wasn't just for Samuel—it was for all the hard work I had poured into this moment.

With my seniors by my side, I performed my first minimally invasive surgery, making no mistakes.

To everyone's astonishment, the operation worked. Samuel gradually improved. After six months of care and rest, he was just like any other man.

Then, we got married and had Irene.

I never expected that Samuel wouldn't thank me for curing him.

In fact, he even found me revolting. He was so ungrateful.

Suddenly, the ringing of my phone snapped me out of my memories. It was a call from Samuel.