My worry levels over the past few years.

I live my life four months at a time. After a good scan I am happy to move forward with my life for a while.

In some cases I do long-range planning: I am going to a wedding this summer. My BFF wants to go to Seattle with me in the fall. Brett and I want to go to Japan in a year.

But that’s as far as I get.

I don’t let myself hope for a dog anymore. Kids are out of the picture. There’s just two of us, so our housing situation is OK.

Where do I want to be in five years? Hell if I know. I just want to be alive.

Last night I had a (rare) freak out. You know what I am talking about: something pops in your head and suddenly you fear for your life.

This doesn’t happen to me that often, and when it does, it is bad.

I feel bad blogging about fear and freak outs because it makes me sound like I get down on myself. This isn’t true. I just happen to own a space on the Internet where I am allowed to tell the world that living with a slow-growing brain cancer can be scary sometimes.