You couldn’t make it up, the singer states. At that moment preparing for her comeback record in eight years, deeply enamored with her current love, and at long last the parent to a young child after facing fertility challenges for ten years, riding high. Then in spring she was diagnosed with cancer in her breast.
The artist, real name Jessica Cornish, is known for speaking her mind. The record, the provocatively titled album, was meant as an candid account, addressing every bit of hardship she’d experienced since she last worked on songs (endometrial issues, miscarriage, unsuccessful partnerships, emotional abuse, suicidal thoughts) with typical candour. The first single, No Secrets, was dropped in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. Her diagnosis. Then follow-up track, Living My Best Life, debuted in late spring and Cornish was speaking publicly about how she was thriving, while all the while coping with breast cancer. Four weeks after she shared the news, and in the start of summer she had a mastectomy.
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, ‘So what’s new with you?’ and I respond, ‘Erm, yeah, nothing …’” Cornish has just had to call off performances because she’s yet to undergo follow-up surgery.
We’re at a studio in the capital. She is wearing a light brown synthetic jacket, blue jeans with ornate white designs, off-white boots and large glasses. Picture motorcycle style meets 70s singer aesthetic. “I feel like I’m in the 70s and I should have a man with facial hair.” Easy Rider, I say, thinking of the movie. “That’s what people called me at school!” She beams. Jessie is quick, unfiltered and filter-free. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is hoping to make her initial standup show next year. “I enjoy humor. When performing I basically roast the crowd.”
Health Struggles and Diagnosis
She was preparing for an slot at the Baftas when she noticed an abnormality. “I immediately went to get it checked, had an scan, and they were, like, ‘It appears fine; your tissue is healthy.’ And I was, like, ‘However, it’s there. My arm hurts and tingling in my hands whenever I rise.’ And they replied, ‘Well, let’s just do a biopsy?’ The date was March 28, the following my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The doctor told her if it was bad news she’d contact on the Monday. By then Cornish had persuaded herself it was nothing. The way she describes it, it was simply too inconvenient to get cancer when she had a busy schedule.
“We’re two weeks away from launching this thing after a long hiatus and four years without a single. And the doctor messaged and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I assumed, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I jump on the Zoom expecting it’s all going to be positive, and she says, ‘You might want to sit.’ The solemn tone? And she reveals, ‘I’m so, so sorry but your test results have shown malignant cells.’” What did you say? “I replied, ‘Well, that’s not great. What awful timing.’ Immediately I felt 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 scary and bizarre. “I dislike anesthesia. You’re escorted. You know when you have emergency surgery you go on a gurney, but then I just strolled down with a gown on and my bum hanging out. It felt surreal.” But, Cornish says, she’s been fortunate. Without chemo or radio, just the surgery. “Cancer sucks, man, but yet Thank fuck I found it early. I had the mastectomy a few months back and my affected breast now looks like a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” Another grin. “At least the nipple remains.”
The follow-up procedure is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her boobs, she remarks, are now “asymmetrical. The size doesn’t match. That’s impolite! I reflected, no need to bully me, I’m already having a difficult experience. How offensive! It’s funny because I said I’d avoid breast surgery because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be perfect. Illness changed that.”
Previous Struggles
The singer is accustomed to medical issues. She feels her outlook on her diagnosis has been so positive because she’s familiar with health crises. Frequently they align with career highs, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or blow, to highlight not to assume everything is fine. “Honestly, I feel fate says, ‘Things going well? Take a seat.’ From a young age, it has often paired with achievements for me; a serious or unusual issue has happened to my health.”
She takes me back to her 11-year-old self, already beginning performing in the West End in the production (she was chosen at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was told about the heart condition a syndrome, which can cause a rapid pulse as well as lightheadedness and heart flutters. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an intravenous line, and being readmitted at night.” She skips forward several years, and young Jessica has become part of the female band Soul Deep while studying at the academy. “I just got my first record deal, and I had a stroke. Then when I was about to put out music in 2020 I had a collision and my throat was injured and I couldn’t sing for a year.”
Wow, I say, slow down, I need a moment. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
