You couldn’t make it up, Jessie J states. There she was readying for her comeback record in eight years, deeply enamored with her recent boyfriend, and at long last the parent to a young child after dealing with conception issues for a decade, feeling invincible. Then in spring she was found to have cancer in her breast.
The artist, birth name Jess Cornish, is known for speaking her mind. The record, the provocatively titled album, was meant as an open book, tackling every moment of pain she’d experienced since she last made an album (endometrial issues, losing a baby, broken romances, gaslighting, suicide) with typical candour. The first single, the song No Secrets, was released in April. But by then there was a mighty secret. Her diagnosis. Then follow-up track, the upbeat Living My Best Life, debuted in late spring and she was giving interviews about how she was thriving, while still secretly dealing with the disease. Four weeks after she went public, and in the start of summer she received surgical treatment.
She shoots me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I come out with a song called No Secrets. I’m giving every interview, and they ask, ‘What’s happening?’ and I respond, ‘Erm, yeah, nothing …’” the singer has just had to call off performances because she’s yet to undergo reconstructive surgery.
Our interview takes place at a photo studio in the capital. She is dressed in a tan faux-leather coat, jeans with elaborate white patches, off-white boots and oversized specs. Think rocker vibe meets 1970s Nana Mouskouri. “As if I’m in the 1970s and I should have a partner with a mustache.” Like the film, I say, recalling the movie. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She smiles. She is fast-thinking, irreverent and filter-free. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is hoping to make her first comedy performance next year. “I like entertaining. During performances I often tease the crowd.”
Personal Battles and News
Cornish was planning an slot at the ceremony when she found a lump. “I promptly visited to get it looked at, had an test, and they were, like, ‘It appears fine; your tissue is healthy.’ And I was, like, ‘Yet I sense it. My arm hurts and pins and needles in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they replied, ‘How about a biopsy?’ That was 28 March, the post-birthday.” It was a Friday. The physician told her if it was concerning she’d contact on the Monday. By then she had convinced herself it was okay. The way she tells it, it was inopportune to face illness when she had many commitments.
“Just two weeks before from launching this thing after a long hiatus and an extended break. 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 expecting it’s all going to be positive, and she goes, ‘You might want to sit.’ The solemn tone? And she says, ‘Unfortunately but your reports have shown aggressive cancer.’” What did you say? “I answered, ‘That’s unfortunate. That’s not fucking great timing.’ The first thing I thought was, ‘My child depends on me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She considered the operation frightening and surreal. “I dislike anesthesia. They lead you. During crises you roll down in a bed, but this time I just marched with a medical attire and my backside out. Like a dystopian scene.” But, she notes, she’s been fortunate. Without chemo or radio, just the op. “Cancer is awful, but however Luckily it was detected early. I underwent removal a few months back and my one side now looks like a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” A further beam. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The follow-up procedure is both medical and cosmetic. Her boobs, she observes, are now “uneven. The implant is larger than before. That’s impolite! I reflected, no need to bully me, I’m already having a hard period. Such disrespect! Ironically I said I’d avoid breast surgery because I’ve got obsessive tendencies, and I know they’d never be ideal. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Previous Struggles
Cornish is accustomed to medical issues. She feels her perspective on the cancer has been so optimistic because she’s familiar with health crises. Many times they occur alongside career highs, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or shock, to remind her not to take anything for granted. “Honestly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Hold on.’ Since childhood, it has consistently accompanied moments of success for me; a serious or unusual issue has impacted my body.”
She reminisces to her 11-year-old self, already making her debut performing in the stage in the production (she was cast at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was found to have the heart condition WPW, which can cause a tachycardia as well as vertigo and palpitations. “I rehearsed between visits on an drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She fast-forwards several years, and 17-year-old Jess has entered the girl group Soul Deep while enrolled in the performing arts school. “I just got my first record deal, and I had a stroke. Then when I was ready to debut in the year 2020 I had a car crash and my larynx moved up and I was unable to vocalize for a twelve months.”
Hey, I say, hold on, I can’t keep up. At just 17? She nods|agrees
