You can’t imagine it, Jessie J says. At that moment gearing up for her new album launch in nearly a decade, deeply enamored with her newish partner, and finally the mother of a toddler after facing fertility challenges for a decade, feeling invincible. Suddenly in March she was told she had cancer in her breast.
The musician, real name Jessica Cornish, is famous for speaking her mind. The record, her latest release, was meant as an candid account, dealing with every bit of hardship she’d endured since she last made an album (endometrial issues, pregnancy loss, unsuccessful partnerships, psychological manipulation, suicidal thoughts) with typical candour. The lead track, her single No Secrets, was launched in the spring. But by then there existed a huge secret. Her diagnosis. Then next release, her song Living My Best Life, came out in late spring and she was giving interviews about how she was living her best life, while still secretly dealing with breast cancer. Subsequently she shared the news, and in the start of summer she underwent breast removal surgery.
She gives me her best “Seriously?” look. “I put out with a song called No Secrets. I’m giving every press talk, and they inquire, ‘Any updates?’ and I answer, ‘Well, not much…’” the singer has just had to call off performances because she’s still waiting for cosmetic procedures.
We’re at a photo studio in the capital. She is wearing a tan faux-leather coat, jeans with elaborate white patches, beige footwear and large glasses. Imagine rocker vibe meets 70s singer aesthetic. “It seems like I’m in the seventies and I should have a partner with a mustache.” Like the film, I say, recalling the picture. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She smiles. Cornish is quick, bold and filter-free. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is hoping to make her initial standup show in the coming year. “I like entertaining. When performing I frequently joke about the crowd.”
Medical Challenges and Discovery
She was preparing for an performance at the Baftas when she noticed an abnormality. “I promptly visited to get it looked at, had an scan, and they were, like, ‘It looks like nothing; your tissue is healthy.’ And I responded, ‘However, it’s there. I’ve got an achy arm and tingling in my hands whenever I wake up.’ And they replied, ‘How about a biopsy?’ That was 28 March, the day after my birthday.” It was a Friday. The physician told her if it was serious she’d contact on the start of the week. By then Cornish had convinced herself it was okay. The way she tells it, it was simply too inconvenient to receive a diagnosis when she had a busy schedule.
“Just two weeks before from debuting the project after eight years without an album and an extended break. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Is six okay?’ And I was, like, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I join the call expecting it’s all going to be positive, and she goes, ‘Are you sitting down?.’ That sympathetic voice? And she says, ‘I’m so, so sorry but your reports have indicated high-grade cancer cells.’” How did you respond? “I answered, ‘Oh, that’s not ideal, is it?. The timing is terrible.’ The first thing I thought was, ‘I have to survive for my boy.’”
Men have called me difficult because I’m a strong person who understands who I am
She considered the operation terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They lead you. During crises you roll down in a bed, but this time I just walked with a gown on and my rear exposed. It felt surreal.” But, she notes, she’s been lucky. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the procedure. “Cancer sucks, man, but you know what? Thank fuck I found it early. The surgery happened recently and my one side now resembles a odd shape.” She smiles again. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The follow-up procedure is both medical and cosmetic. Her boobs, she notes, are now “different sizes. The size doesn’t match. How rude! I felt, don’t add insult to injury, I’m already having a rough time. So rude! Amusingly I said I’d never get my boobs done because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be flawless. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Previous Struggles
Cornish is accustomed to medical issues. She feels her perspective on the cancer has been so upbeat because she’s experienced in health crises. They have often coincided with peak moments, functioning as a wake-up call, or shock, to make her recall not to take anything for granted. “Frankly, I feel the universe whispers, ‘You having a good time? Sit down.’ Since childhood, it has often paired with achievements for me; a serious or unusual issue has happened to my health.”
She reminisces to her 11-year-old self, already making her debut performing in the West End in the production (she was selected at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was diagnosed with the medical problem Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a rapid pulse as well as vertigo and irregular beats. “I rehearsed between visits on an IV drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She fast-forwards several years, and 17-year-old Jess has become part of the girl group Soul Deep while enrolled in the performing arts school. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a stroke. Then when I was ready to debut in the year 2020 I had a collision and my voice box shifted and I was unable to vocalize for a year.”
Oi, I say, wait, I am overwhelmed. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
