You can’t imagine it, Jessie J states. There she was readying for her first album release in nearly a decade, ecstatically in love with her newish partner, and finally the mother of a toddler after facing fertility challenges for a decade, feeling invincible. Then in March she was diagnosed with a breast cancer diagnosis.
The singer-songwriter, real name Jess Cornish, is known for being brutally honest. The album, the provocatively titled album, was meant as an transparent story, tackling every ounce of devastation she’d faced since she last worked on songs (endometriosis, pregnancy loss, broken romances, gaslighting, mental health struggles) with typical candour. The lead track, her single No Secrets, was released in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. Her diagnosis. Later next release, Living My Best Life, debuted in May and she was talking to press about how she was thriving, while all the while dealing with the disease. Four weeks after she shared the news, and in July she received surgical treatment.
She shoots me her best “Are you kidding?” glance. “I release with a song called No Secrets. I’m doing every interview, and they ask, ‘So what’s new with you?’ and I respond, ‘Erm, yeah, nothing …’” Cornish has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s yet to undergo reconstructive surgery.
Our interview takes place at a photo studio in the capital. She is wearing a light brown synthetic jacket, jeans with detailed white appliqués, cream boots and big frames. Picture biker chic meets 70s singer aesthetic. “I feel like I’m in the 70s and I should have a partner with a mustache.” Like the film, I say, thinking of the film. “That’s what people called me at school!” She beams. Cornish is fast-thinking, unfiltered and blunt. She says she has always been interested in humor and is aiming for her standup debut in the coming year. “I love making people laugh. During performances I often tease the crowd.”
The artist was preparing for an performance at the awards show when she noticed an abnormality. “I promptly visited to get it looked at, had an scan, and they said, ‘It looks like nothing; your breasts are normal.’ And I insisted, ‘But I can feel it. I’ve got an achy arm and pins and needles in my hands whenever I wake up.’ And they suggested, ‘Well, let’s just do a biopsy?’ That was 28 March, the following my birthday.” It was a Friday. The specialist told her if it was bad news she’d call on the Monday. By then Cornish had assured herself it was fine. The way she describes it, it was simply too inconvenient to get cancer when she had so much on.
“Just two weeks before from debuting the project after a long hiatus and no new music. And the doctor messaged and said, ‘Are you free at six?’ And I was, like, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I jump on the Zoom thinking it’s all going to be good, and she informs me, ‘Please take a seat.’ The solemn tone? And she reveals, ‘I’m so, so sorry but your reports have indicated malignant cells.’” What did you say? “I replied, ‘Well, that’s not great. The timing is terrible.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘I can’t die because my son needs me.’”
Some men find me challenging due to my self-awareness
She viewed the procedure terrifying and absurd. “I fear going under. They walk you down. During crises you are wheeled, but then I just marched with a hospital gown and my bum hanging out. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, Cornish says, she’s been lucky. No chemotherapy or radiation, just the op. “It’s terrible, but yet Thank fuck I found it early. I underwent removal a few months back and my one side now looks like a fruit under fabric.” Another grin. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The next operation is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her chest, she observes, are now “uneven. They didn’t do an implant as small as my original. How rude! I reflected, no need to bully me, I’m already having a difficult experience. Such disrespect! Ironically I said I’d never get my boobs done because I’ve got obsessive tendencies, and I know they’d never be flawless. My plans were disrupted.”
She is no stranger to illness. She feels her attitude toward illness has been so upbeat because she’s used to medical emergencies. They have often coincided with career highs, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or shock, to highlight not to take anything for granted. “Honestly, I feel life goes, ‘Things going well? Hold on.’ Since childhood, it has often paired with high points for me; a major or strange event has happened to my health.”
She recalls to her childhood, already beginning starring in the London theater in a musical (she was cast at the age of nine). That’s when she was found to have the heart condition Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as vertigo and heart flutters. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an IV drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She skips forward half a dozen years, and young Jessica has entered the female band the group while attending the performing arts school. “I secured a deal, and I had a stroke. Then when I was planning to release songs in 2020 I had a car crash and my voice box shifted and I lost my voice for a year.”
Oi, I say, wait, I can’t keep up. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
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