All the lights are on. There’s a cat on my lap. Christmas music streams. My beloved sits next to me.Too much. Too much to process. Lights, sounds, presence, sensation. My brain is overloaded and can’t handle so much stimulus. Doctors don’t tell you about this part, that with brain tumors you’ll need to rest from the exertion of sitting. They don’t tell you that you’ll navigate the flights of steps down to the beach and back up again in slow motion, people passing on either side. They don’t tell you that 11 hours of sleep a night will never feel like enough. They don’t tell you how tired you’ll be. Maybe doctors don’t tell you these things because the quality of tired is different for everyone. Or maybe because it all just becomes so obvious and doctors are of greater service using their time with you to relay important information about your surgery. First things first. Being alive is more important than not being tired, you know? But it’s true. I am more tired today than I was a week ago, and much more so than a month ago. Brain tumors take energy. If you’ve sent me a private message and I haven’t responded, it’s because I’m so tired. Just know that I keep your words in my heart. I judge myself – a little – for being so tired. I should push through. I should ignore the tired. I should get more done. My beloved does almost everything for me now. And then I think to myself, no, you have fucking brain tumors and you’re allowed to be tired. Supposed to be tired. It’s not you, it’s your body. And you deserve rest. Tomorrow! A visit with the neurosurgeon.