Last night, I lost it. A meagre 48 hours earlier, my Mum asked if I ever felt like crying. I've just finished a month of oncology. Throughout the rotation, I felt like I had my emotions under control.

Last night, I watched a movie. Inside the first ten minutes, I was sobbing, fetal on. In a moment, all the pain, the hurt and overwhelming sadness I'd seen in the last month was draped over me a veil. Too heavy to cast off, to black to see through.

Last night, I remembered. Faces of terminal septuagenarians, stoic and brave. The disfigured faces of a few with head and neck tumours. Grieving families of comatose patients, one foot at the threshold.

Young mothers. Mothers searching for a way to explain death to their toddlers.

Sadness, incomprehension. Death.

And when I stopped crying, Batman and I watched the rest of the movie together. And the patients, those who are still alive, continued to live the rest of their lives.

Last night, the movie I watched was about Love.