My cousin lost her breast to cancer and surgery.

Last time we spoke, she was jealous of my pregnancy. She and her husband, a doctor, had been trying to conceive for over a year. I’ve been putting off calling her since I heard the news. I had a lot of opinions, fears and feelings, none of which I wanted to share with her.

Everything she went through during the past month was a path I chose not to take over five years ago when I found a lump in my breast. My doctor advised me to get a biopsy. Unlike my cousin, I refused it. I monitored this lump often; it grew larger and more tender on some times of the month, and receded on others, but stayed more or less the same size. I did herbal cleanses and alternative therapies focused on making this lump disappear. Recently while breastfeeding my baby, I noticed that the lump in my breast is gone.

Today when I called my cousin, I was afraid I would sound smug and self-righteous. I, with the breasts and the baby, did the right thing. And she, boobless and barren, should listen to me.

But as soon as I heard her voice, I found myself listening more than talking. She wasn’t defeated. She was positive and strong. She can handle anything that her upcoming chemo treatments can throw at her.

I think she’ll be fine; and I’m always right.