In my 18-year journey fighting a Grade III Oligoastrocytoma, my support network has been crucial in myriad ways. I strongly urge newly diagnosed patients to let people help you. They may feel otherwise powerless in your cancer battle, as they want to take on that cancer for you but know they can't. Whether it's a meal, a ride to an appointment, or a shoulder to cry on, people love you and really do want to help. Know too that there may be people who disappear from your life during this crucial time. My supposed best friend left me in the lurch when I was diagnosed, and it told me a lot about her character (or rather, lack of it). Don't be surprised if certain "friends" back away - it is a reflection on them, not on you!
There is also nothing like a brain cancer diagnosis to make you reconsider your spiritual life and to question God about His role in all of this. I myself have had to come to the realization that while God does not guarantee us a life without pain, He does promise to be there with us through it all. The excellent care I've received from my medical team, and the love of my friends and family, are all proof of that.
I advise that you actively include a social worker from your treatment center on your care team, because he/she can help you with issues you may not have the energy to consider at such a difficult time. This person can help you find and apply for financial resources such as state and Social Security Disability to help you while you're in treatment, or can connect you with support groups and other resources.
As a high-information person, I found it extremely helpful to join a local brain cancer support group. I learned from others how they coped with the physical and emotional challenges they faced with their diagnosis and subsequent treatment. These groups will also sometimes feature guest speakers on topics relevant to this disease.
There are some amazing sites out there now that offer support to brain tumor patients and their families, the best one in the US being the American Brain Tumor Association (www.abta.org). This is a great place to start if you're seeking patient and/or caregiver services and information. It is also always worthwhile to inquire about clinical trials for which you may be eligible; I wouldn't be here now had I not participated in the clinical trial of Temozolomide in the mid-90s, and that drug (now marketed as Temodar) is the gold standard for treating my tumor type. WWW.virtualtrials.com is one of many sites useful in locating clinical trials.
I also somehow managed in all of this to develop a really twisted sense of humor about my disease. I even created a Frequent Scanner Miles Card to account for the dozens of MRI scans I've had. Since I have now hit 67 scans, I am on my second punch-out card. I have to laugh about these things or else I would cry all day. I don't need more wrinkles, so I find laughter is the best medicine. My social media page specifies my job as "Tumor Humor Specialist" at "Professional Survivor." It is the only job I can take on at the moment as I begin battle number five with my "naughty child". That nasty P word (prognosis) is not allowed in my vocabulary. I'm still here, aren't I?