You couldn’t make it up, the singer remarks. There she was preparing for her first album release in eight years, ecstatically in love with her newish partner, and finally the mom to a little one after dealing with conception issues for a decade, feeling invincible. Then in March she was found to have breast cancer.
The artist, actual name Jessica Cornish, is renowned for telling it as it is. The LP, the provocatively titled album, was meant as an transparent story, tackling every ounce of devastation she’d endured since she last worked on songs (a gynecological condition, miscarriage, unsuccessful partnerships, gaslighting, mental health struggles) with characteristic openness. The lead track, No Secrets, was launched in the spring. But by then there was a mighty secret. Her diagnosis. Later follow-up track, the upbeat Living My Best Life, debuted in late spring and Cornish was speaking publicly about how she was living her best life, while still secretly dealing with breast cancer. Four weeks after she went public, and in July she received surgical treatment.
She gives me her best “Seriously?” expression. “I put out with a song called No Secrets. I’m doing every interview, and they inquire, ‘So what’s new with you?’ and I’m, like, ‘Well, not much…’” she has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s yet to undergo follow-up surgery.
We’re at a photography studio in the capital. She is wearing a light brown synthetic jacket, jeans with elaborate white patches, cream boots and oversized specs. Think rocker vibe meets 70s singer aesthetic. “As if I’m in the 1970s and I should have a man with facial hair.” A biker reference, I say, recalling the film. “They used to call me that!” She beams. She is fast-thinking, bold and blunt. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is aiming for her standup debut next year. “I enjoy humor. During performances I frequently joke about the audience.”
Cornish was getting ready for an slot at the ceremony when she noticed an abnormality. “I promptly visited to get it looked at, had an ultrasound, and they were, like, ‘It seems benign; your breasts are normal.’ And I responded, ‘However, it’s there. I’ve got an achy arm and pins and needles in my hands whenever I rise.’ And they replied, ‘We should biopsy it?’ It happened on March 28, the following my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The physician told her if it was concerning she’d contact on the start of the week. By then she had persuaded herself it was okay. The way she describes it, it was inopportune to receive a diagnosis when she had a busy schedule.
“It was a fortnight prior from debuting the project after years away and no new music. And she contacted me and said, ‘Are you free at six?’ And I thought, ‘A video call, likely minor.’ So I log in expecting it’s all going to be positive, and she informs me, ‘You might want to sit.’ That sympathetic voice? And she says, ‘I regret to inform you but your test results have shown aggressive cancer.’” What did you say? “I answered, ‘Well, that’s not great. The timing is terrible.’ The first thing I thought was, ‘My child depends on me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She viewed the procedure terrifying and absurd. “I fear going under. They walk you down. During crises you are wheeled, but this time I just marched with a hospital gown and my bum hanging out. Like a dystopian scene.” But, Cornish says, she’s been lucky. No chemotherapy or radiation, just the surgery. “Cancer sucks, man, but yet I’m grateful it was caught soon. I had the mastectomy recently and my affected breast now resembles a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” Another grin. “The nipple was preserved.”
The next operation is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her breasts, 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 rough time. So rude! Amusingly I said I’d never get my boobs done because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be flawless. Illness changed that.”
Cornish is accustomed to medical issues. She feels her attitude toward illness has been so positive because she’s familiar with medical emergencies. They have often coincided with peak moments, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or punch in the stomach, to make her recall not to assume everything is fine. “Frankly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Take a seat.’ Ever since I was a child, it has consistently accompanied achievements for me; a major or strange event has happened to my health.”
She reminisces to her youth, already starting her career starring in the West End in a musical (she was chosen at the age of nine). That’s when she was told about the cardiac issue a syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as vertigo and irregular beats. “I rehearsed between visits on an drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She fast-forwards half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has become part of the trio Soul Deep while studying at the Brit School. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a stroke. Then when I was ready to debut in 2020 I had a automobile accident and my throat was injured and I was unable to vocalize for a year.”
Oi, I say, slow down, I can’t keep up. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
Elara Vance is a gaming enthusiast and analyst with over a decade of experience in online casinos, specializing in slot machine mechanics and player strategies.