Author’s note: This is another rant. I apologize. My doctor tells me that after the surgery, my hormones will be back to normal and I’ll feel a lot better. I’ll be stuck at home for two weeks and plan to do some writing about happy stuff, and possibly posting pics from my surgery. (Warnings will be posted for the squeemish.)

Unless you like unsolicited advice, don’t ever tell your relatives or close friends you’ve got a serious illness.

I’m just saying.

Remember when I blogged about looking for a common-law husband with good insurance because ObummerCare sucks? (No, I didn’t find a husband.) I might have mentioned needing surgery.

Well, I do. It’s major surgery, but nothing that millions of women haven’t gone through. Side note: Those of you men hoping I would someday birth your children, well… sorry, but that ship is about to sail.

But here’s the thing that I’m going to rant about…

Do not ever tell your family you’re sick. I know, that sounds horrible. I used to be just like you all, thinking keeping the health secret was a terribly cruel thing to do to your family. They only want to be there for you because they care, they just want to “help”!

Yeah. Let me tell you about that “help”. That “help” comes in the form of unsolicited advice. I’ve been guilty of this, too. And, Heaven forbid, you don’t take their advice. Holy Overbearing Control-freak Shit Storm, Batman!

A family member is convinced I’m a screw-up who can’t do anything right, let alone manage her own health and medical care. (Yeah, I know there are several family members who have no respect for my choices, but this one is in the forefront.) She insists I need to drop the ever-so-hard-to-get doctor and surgery date right now to sign up for some piss-poor Obummercare plan. A plan of which she has neglected to read the fine print regarding hospital stays, which incur additional expenses. She seems oblivious to that fact – no matter that I’ve already told her twice – I would have to relinquish my hard-won doctor and long-awaited surgery date.

Meanwhile, while awaiting ObummerCare, this panacea, to kick in, I’ll be trying to find another doctor and hospital to take that crap (good luck! the list of accepted plans at the hospitals is slim), taking all the tests over again (nope, they don’t seem to like to use previous recent labs around here), and praying I get in with my new ObummerCare before I bleed to death or end up in the ER (yup, one of my nurses had the same thing, ended up in ER – twice, once with a blood transfusion. I’ve already come close twice, myself).

The ad is going to read, “One family member, free to good home.” I might consider swapping her for one of yours. She needs a different hobby, so you’ll want to line one up for her, one that is not a lifetime of criticizing me and my choices.

I’m getting unsolicited advice from friends, too. I know they mean well, but ninety-five percent of the people telling me what I should do haven’t been in my situation. But what do I know? I’m only the one who has spent every single day for the past three and a half months dealing with this. And those who have been through it? They are sharing their experience, which was helpful.

But now it’s all become too much. No one realizes I’m done talking about this – no matter how often I tell them. My. Whole. World. for the last three and a half months has been nothing but doctors, tests, healthcare research, medical research, appointments, and more doctors, more tests, more healthcare research, more medical research, more appointments. By the end of this I’ll have seen close to a dozen doctors, been to three clinics and two hospitals spreading over three counties.

EVERYONE wants to talk about this – but me. (I know, I know, the gal who blogs TMI on a regular basis almost didn’t blog about this. Go figure.)

I go in for surgery February 17 (it was February 10, but the hospital couldn’t get me in)… yes, for Valentine’s Day, also known as “Single’s Awareness Day” I’m having surgery. How romantic. (<—dripping with sarcasm)

What is the best advice or help I’ve received? Offers of rides or assistance, and prayers for my best health and perfect well-being. But if you do offer assistance, be prepared to be taken up on it. That’s help I will need. But if you offer, and the helpee says “no”, accept that with grace.

My unsolicited advice? Love and accept the choices of those around you, and those you love. Truly loving someone means accepting them for who they are, even if you don’t agree with their choices, or you think your way is the only way.

Now, let’s all sing “Let It Go“, mmkay?