Tell the misinformed busybody that he can have whatever part of my ribeye I don't eat (at dinner and two hours later...I eat serially.) But that he'd better bring his own peanut butter and jelly, because he's gonna be hungry.
ETA...also tell him that if you wanted to spend eternity barfing, you'd get the damned band. I puked more those three years than I did the previous 52 years combined.
And...seriously...I'd tell him that since he is not a DS patient or surgeon or medical researcher, he really doesn't have anything to add to my decision-making...and that all he is doing is upsetting me, soooooo this topic is now closed. We are done, finished, etc. and if it turns out he is right, he is welcome to limit his eulogy to three words..."Told you so."
Gawd...it's been 42 years since I was THAT smart...lol!!