You can’t imagine it, Jessie J remarks. At that moment readying for her comeback record in nearly a decade, deeply enamored with her current love, and finally the mother of a toddler after struggling to conceive for a decade, on top of the world. Then in March she was told she had a breast cancer diagnosis.
The musician, birth name J. Cornish, is famous for telling it as it is. The record, the provocatively titled album, was intended as an candid account, addressing every moment of pain she’d experienced since she last worked on songs (a gynecological condition, miscarriage, failed relationships, psychological manipulation, suicide) with her usual frankness. The first single, No Secrets, was dropped in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. The cancer. Then second single, her song Living My Best Life, debuted in late spring and Cornish was speaking publicly about how she was thriving, while all the while dealing with the disease. A month later she went public, and in the start of summer she underwent breast removal surgery.
She offers me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I come out with a song called the track No Secrets. I’m giving every press talk, and they ask, ‘So what’s new with you?’ and I respond, ‘Uh, nothing really’” Cornish has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s still waiting for reconstructive surgery.
We meet at a photo studio in London. She is wearing a beige fake-leather jacket, jeans with detailed white appliqués, beige footwear and big frames. Picture motorcycle style meets 1970s Nana Mouskouri. “I feel like I’m in the 1970s and I should have a partner with a mustache.” A biker reference, I say, referencing the picture. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She beams. Cornish is sharp-witted, unfiltered and filter-free. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is hoping to make her standup debut soon. “I like entertaining. When performing I basically roast the crowd.”
She was getting ready for an slot at the ceremony when she noticed an abnormality. “I quickly sought to get it examined, had an scan, and they said, ‘It appears fine; your breasts are normal.’ And I insisted, ‘However, it’s there. I’ve got an achy arm and tingling in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they said, ‘We should biopsy it?’ That was 28 March, the following my birthday.” It was a Friday. The doctor told her if it was serious she’d reach out on the Monday. By then she had persuaded herself it was nothing. The way she tells it, it was just bad timing to receive a diagnosis when she had many commitments.
“It was a fortnight prior from releasing the album after years away and an extended break. And the doctor messaged and said, ‘Is six okay?’ And I was, like, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I log in believing it’s all going to be fine, and she informs me, ‘You might want to sit.’ The solemn tone? And she says, ‘I regret to inform you but your test results have shown malignant cells.’” What was your reaction? “I answered, ‘Well, that’s not great. The timing is terrible.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘I can’t die because my son needs me.’”
Men have called me difficult because I’m a strong person who understands who I am
She found the surgery frightening and surreal. “I dislike anesthesia. You’re escorted. During crises you roll down in a bed, but this time I just strolled down with a medical attire and my backside out. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, Cornish says, she’s been fortunate. Without chemo or radio, just the procedure. “Cancer is awful, but you know what? Luckily it was detected early. The surgery happened four months ago and my affected breast now appears as a fruit under fabric.” She smiles again. “The nipple was preserved.”
The subsequent surgery is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her chest, she remarks, are now “uneven. The implant is larger than before. That’s impolite! I felt, don’t add insult to injury, I’m already having a difficult experience. How offensive! Ironically I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be perfect. Illness changed that.”
She is no stranger to illness. She feels her outlook on her diagnosis has been so positive because she’s familiar with medical emergencies. They have often coincided with career highs, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or punch in the stomach, to make her recall not to be complacent. “Frankly, I feel fate says, ‘Things going well? Take a seat.’ From a young age, it has consistently accompanied moments of success for me; a major or strange event has affected my well-being.”
She takes me back to her childhood, already beginning featuring in the stage in a musical (she was selected at the age of 9). That’s when she was found to have the medical problem WPW, which can cause a tachycardia as well as lightheadedness and palpitations. “I was going in and out of rehearsals on an intravenous line, and going back into hospital at night.” She jumps ahead half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has joined the girl group Soul Deep while enrolled in the academy. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a stroke. Then when I was planning to release songs in recently I had a car crash and my throat was injured and I couldn’t sing for a long period.”
Oi, I say, slow down, I can’t keep up. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
Elara is a digital artist and content strategist with over a decade of experience in visual media and creative blogging.