Dr. L., asked if I would be OK having one of those super long MRIs... the kind that last for over an hour... Since I am a big fan of scans and medical procedures I said, "Hell yeah!" He already thinks I am crazy. Big long scan. New doctor to scrutinize my medical history. Should be interesting.

I tell people brain surgery is easier than they think. The doctors put you to sleep and then you wake up X-amount of hours later and you never know what happened because you were asleep! You hurt, and you have to take it easy for a long time, and you can't go on any roller coasters for a while, but other than that it is all good.

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.

It sounds pessimistic, but let's be real: even when you are moving on with your life and enjoying survivorship or remission, you still worry about cancer from time to time.

I no longer worry about getting cancer (HA!), however, I do want to improve my overall health--and maybe a cure lies within a lovable ball of fur.

The birth of the brain tumor social media hashtag on Twitter, in all its glory.

"But really, aren't there cases when grade twos just stay a grade two forever?" I implied that with my youth, health and intelligence, someone as awesome as I must be spared from this injustice.

Frankly, it is embarrassing to admit this weakness, but maybe being honest about my moments, with what could be defined as "depression," will mean something to someone, somewhere. I figure, if we're all so much alike, maybe you'll understand this too.