You wouldn’t believe it, the singer remarks. There she was preparing for her comeback record in eight years, ecstatically in love with her newish partner, and at long last the mother of a toddler after dealing with conception issues for ten years, riding high. Suddenly in March she was told she had breast cancer.
The artist, actual name J. Cornish, is known for telling it as it is. The LP, her latest release, was intended as an open book, dealing with every ounce of devastation she’d faced since she last worked on songs (endometrial issues, losing a baby, failed relationships, gaslighting, suicide) with characteristic openness. The first single, the song No Secrets, was released in the spring. But by then there was a mighty secret. The illness. Later follow-up track, the upbeat Living My Best Life, was released in late spring and the artist was giving interviews about how she was living her best life, while at the same time coping with her cancer. Four weeks after she went public, and in July she received surgical treatment.
She offers me her best “What the fuck?” expression. “I come out with a song called No Secrets. I’m giving every interview, and they inquire, ‘What’s happening?’ and I respond, ‘Uh, nothing really’” Cornish has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s awaiting reconstructive surgery.
We’re at a photo studio in London. She is sporting a beige fake-leather jacket, denim trousers with elaborate white patches, cream boots and large glasses. Picture rocker vibe meets 1970s Nana Mouskouri. “I feel like I’m in the seventies and I should have a man with facial hair.” A biker reference, I say, thinking of the movie. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She beams. Jessie is sharp-witted, bold and filter-free. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is hoping to make her standup debut next year. “I like entertaining. When performing I frequently joke about the audience.”
Medical Challenges and Discovery
Cornish was planning an slot at the awards show when she found a lump. “I quickly sought to get it examined, had an ultrasound, and they told me, ‘It seems benign; your breasts are normal.’ And I responded, ‘But I can feel it. My arm hurts and tingling in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they said, ‘How about a biopsy?’ It happened on March 28, the following my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The specialist told her if it was serious she’d reach out on the Monday. By then she had persuaded herself it was fine. The way she tells it, it was just bad timing to face illness when she had so much on.
“We’re two weeks away from debuting the project after eight years without an album and an extended break. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Are you free at six?’ And I was, like, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I join the call believing it’s all going to be fine, and she says, ‘You might want to sit.’ You know that sad tone they use? And she continues, ‘Unfortunately but your test results have come back as high-grade cancer cells.’” What was your reaction? “I replied, ‘That’s unfortunate. That’s not fucking great timing.’ My initial thought 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 viewed the procedure terrifying and absurd. “I fear going under. They walk you down. In urgent cases you are wheeled, but then I just walked with a hospital gown and my bum hanging out. It felt surreal.” But, Cornish says, she’s been lucky. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the surgery. “Cancer is awful, but yet Luckily it was detected early. I had the mastectomy a few months back and my one side now resembles a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” She smiles again. “The nipple was preserved.”
The subsequent surgery is both medical and cosmetic. Her breasts, she notes, are now “different sizes. The implant is larger than before. That’s impolite! I felt, no need to bully me, I’m already having a difficult experience. So rude! Ironically I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be flawless. My plans were disrupted.”
Past Medical Issues
Cornish is no stranger to illness. She believes her attitude toward illness has been so upbeat because she’s familiar with medical emergencies. They have often coincided with career highs, acting as a reminder, or blow, to remind her not to take anything for granted. “Frankly, I feel the universe whispers, ‘Things going well? Take a seat.’ Ever since I was a child, it has always gone alongside achievements for me; a serious or unusual issue has impacted my body.”
She reminisces to her 11-year-old self, already beginning performing in the West End in a musical (she was selected at the age of nine). That’s when she was told about the heart condition WPW, which can cause a tachycardia as well as lightheadedness and palpitations. “I rehearsed between visits on an drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She jumps ahead several years, and 17-year-old Jess has entered the female band Soul Deep while enrolled in the Brit School. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a stroke. Then when I was ready to debut in recently I had a automobile accident and my voice box shifted and I couldn’t sing for a year.”
Hey, I say, wait, I am overwhelmed. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
