You can’t imagine it, Jessie J remarks. At that moment readying for her first album release in nearly a decade, ecstatically in love with her newish partner, and finally the parent to a young child after struggling to conceive for ten years, on top of the world. Suddenly in March she was told she had cancer in her breast.
The musician, actual name J. Cornish, is renowned for telling it as it is. The album, Don’t Tease Me With a Good Time, was intended as an transparent story, addressing every bit of hardship she’d endured since she last worked on songs (a gynecological condition, pregnancy loss, broken romances, emotional abuse, suicidal thoughts) with her usual frankness. The first single, her single No Secrets, was released in the spring. But by then there remained a major undisclosed truth. Her diagnosis. Then next release, Living My Best Life, came out in late spring and the artist was talking to press about how she was thriving, while still secretly dealing with breast cancer. A month later she disclosed her condition, and in July she underwent breast removal surgery.
She gives me her best “Seriously?” glance. “I release with a song called No Secrets. I’m doing every press talk, and they’re, like, ‘What’s happening?’ and I answer, ‘Well, not much…’” she has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s yet to undergo cosmetic procedures.
We’re at a photo studio in London. She is dressed in a beige fake-leather jacket, denim trousers with elaborate white patches, beige footwear and big frames. Picture biker chic meets vintage look. “As if I’m in the seventies and I should have a partner with a mustache.” Like the film, I say, recalling the movie. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She beams. Cornish is quick, unfiltered and filter-free. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is aiming for her standup debut soon. “I love making people laugh. During performances I often tease the audience.”
Health Struggles and Diagnosis
She was planning an appearance at the awards show when she discovered a mass. “I promptly visited to get it checked, had an test, and they were, like, ‘It appears fine; your tissue is healthy.’ And I insisted, ‘However, it’s there. I have arm pain and tingling in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they replied, ‘Well, let’s just do a biopsy?’ That was 28 March, the post-birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The physician told her if it was serious she’d reach out on the start of the week. By then Cornish had convinced herself it was nothing. The way she tells it, it was inopportune to receive a diagnosis when she had a busy schedule.
“We’re two weeks away from debuting the project after a long hiatus and four years without a single. And the doctor messaged and said, ‘Is six okay?’ And I was, like, ‘Oh, it’s a Zoom, it won’t be anything.’ So I jump on the Zoom believing it’s all going to be good, and she goes, ‘You might want to sit.’ That sympathetic voice? And she says, ‘Unfortunately but your biopsy results have shown aggressive cancer.’” How did you respond? “I said, ‘That’s unfortunate. What awful timing.’ My initial thought was, ‘I can’t die because my son needs me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She viewed the procedure frightening and surreal. “I fear going under. You’re escorted. In urgent cases you roll down in a bed, but then I just strolled down with a medical attire and my rear exposed. It felt surreal.” But, she adds, she’s been fortunate. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the surgery. “Cancer sucks, man, but you know what? I’m grateful it was caught soon. The surgery happened a few months back and my right breast now looks like a odd shape.” She smiles again. “At least the nipple remains.”
The subsequent surgery 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 felt, why make it worse, I’m already having a difficult experience. Such disrespect! Ironically I said I’d avoid breast surgery because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be ideal. My plans were disrupted.”
Previous Struggles
The singer is accustomed to medical issues. She feels her perspective on the cancer has been so optimistic because she’s used to medical emergencies. They have often coincided with career highs, functioning as a wake-up call, or blow, to make her recall not to take anything for granted. “Honestly, I feel fate says, ‘Enjoying yourself? Hold on.’ Since childhood, it has consistently accompanied achievements for me; a serious or unusual issue has affected my well-being.”
She recalls to her 11-year-old self, already beginning performing in the London theater in a musical (she was cast at the age of nine). That’s when she was diagnosed with the medical problem WPW, which can cause a fast heartbeat as well as lightheadedness and palpitations. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an IV drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She fast-forwards six years, and 17-year-old Jess has entered the trio Soul Deep while studying at the performing arts school. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a brain incident. Then when I was planning to release songs in the year 2020 I had a collision and my throat was injured and I lost my voice for a twelve months.”
Oi, I say, slow down, I can’t keep up. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
