I have known people who have died from brain cancer, and I know people who are still living with this disease. I wanted to tell Brittany to wait it out--you don't know how fast these things will bring you down. I wish Brittany gave herself time to meet other people like herself and to find out what life can be like for a 29-year-old with brain cancer. But who am I to tell a stranger what to do?

“Whatever you're doing today… Take a minute for me,” she wrote. “Now put you’re heart in it and do it better.”

I have no idea if my father is 'proud' of me, but in my mind he has no right to be proud. Because nothing of who I am reflects on him, his skills as a parent or of who he is as a person. Pride is feeling good about something you did. He never did anything, and he certainly never reached out during my entire cancer process. I never got flowers. I never got a card. He didn't come to my wedding.

Probably the most amazing moment of all was on the first night I was there. There was a kickoff event in a nightclub for all the young adult cancer survivors and halfway through a beautiful young woman walked up to me and said my name. It took me about five seconds to realize I was looking at Emily, a young brain cancer survivor I met 10 months ago via my blog.

Then I explain that I am not going to see any shows. I don't drink or gamble. And I am there to attend a summit for young adults with cancer. I tend to bum people out a bit.