Dear Jessie J, don't fear the cancer rage it's only natural after shock diagnosis – I know because it floored me too

The Sun

2 days ago

SUN Agony Aunt Sally Land, who also had breast cancer, writes an open letter to Jessie J after the pop star's shock diagnosis.
DEAR JESSIE: MY heart went out to you as I read about your breast cancer diagnosis and plea for a hug.
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You shared that you will undergo surgery within days, and while this is the rawest of times — a 'rage stage', even — as a fellow member of the club none of us wanted to join, I can reassure you that this time of huge uncertainties will pass.
You will be feeling all the possible emotions stacked one upon the other: Relief, hope, guilt, agonising fear and a fury like no other you have ever experienced.
The relief comes from being thankful the cancer has been detected. The hope — that the surgery will remove all cancerous cells.
The guilt isn't logical, but ever- present nonetheless, that you somehow didn't know before there was something wrong.
The agonising fear stalks you, occupying your mind with what might happen to your children if the worse case scenario becomes reality.
And then there is the rage.
It's a visceral anger that this is happening to you.
And there is no reasoning with this rage, because of course why not you, me, or any of the other 56,820 women who are diagnosed with breast cancer in the UK every year?
This anger is about having to go under the knife, fear of surgery, resentment that your breasts, a part of your body so synonymous with being a woman, are about to be cut and changed for ever.
Your news threw me back to this time last year when I was waiting for my own major breast cancer surgery.
Sociable and friendly by nature, I spent the weeks before my surgery pacing angrily alone.
Friends, family and colleagues were amazing, but I couldn't break out of my simmering fury.
A long weekend at the coast passed in a surreal blur, and while my family played cricket on the beach, I'd take myself and my black mood off for long walks.
Often the only companion I could cope with was Coco, my scruffy labradoodle.
It's a weird feeling carrying something around within you that you know is potentially lethal, and your conscious thoughts are so often all consumed on that small pin point.
You desperately want it out and yet dread the surgery.
Shopping for post-surgery bras was a real low point.
Normally drawn to bright and bold matching sets, I stared miserably at the monotone post-surgery bras, tears running down my cheeks in the middle of M&S.
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This was not a section of the women's lingerie I had ever wanted to visit.
The only offerings were unapologetically ugly 'bolder holders', but over the next few months I came to appreciate their soft texture and velcro fastenings.
I applaud your honesty at this early stage of diagnosis. It took me months to open up about the experience and I'm so glad I did.
So many women and men have contacted me privately to share their own experiences of cancer.
And some followed up symptoms that they admitted they would otherwise have ignored.
Your willingness to be open will help so many and keep life-saving cancer awareness high.
Disconcertingly, one in five patients wait longer than three months before sharing their symptoms with their GP.
So just think how much better survival rates would be if people sought help earlier.
My surgeon advised me to tell my children about my diagnosis because, as he said, 'Children hear more than you think and know when you are keeping secrets from them.'
He told me that I had a long path ahead and if my children didn't feel they could trust what I was telling them, it would make the whole process a lot harder.
His words echoed in my head when a couple of hours later I put my youngest to bed.
As I tucked him in, he looked straight in my eyes and said, 'Mummy, are you OK? I feel like you're hiding something.'
I knew then, we'd tell them the next day.
The memory of seeing their faces crumple still floors me. My surgeon was right — while there were plenty of nerve-wracking hurdles from that point on, and I know they were scared, at least they knew they could trust us.
Your son is still very young, so will have limited understanding of your diagnosis.
But you will find an age-appropriate way to communicate that 'Mummy is poorly and the doctors are helping her get better'.
Especially post-surgery, the sight of tubes, dressings, drains and tentative cuddles take some explaining.
Macmillan (macmillan.org.uk) has a brilliant section on how to talk to children and teens about cancer.
While my rage and fear consumed me right up until the point when I went under general anaesthetic, the moment I came round from surgery and immediately inspected myself, a huge wave of relief swept over me.
My surgeon, Mr Richard Sutton, the Clinical Director for the Breast Unit at the RUH in Bath, did an absolutely brilliant job.
Like many breast cancer surgeons he is trained both in tumour removal, reconstructive surgery and oncoplastic surgery, which improves cosmetic outcomes.
That means while the surgery is fully focused on giving you the best outcome healthwise, your surgical team does everything they can to give you the best aesthetic results.
I'm sure you will be in very good hands and I'm wishing you the hugest wave of relief.
So deep breaths, Jessie. You're going through the mill, but the love of all who surround you will carry you through.
And I'm sending you the hugest hug.
With love, Sally
If anything is playing on your mind and you want advice, you can write to me and my team of trained counsellors for a personal response at [e-mail]
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JESSIE'S HEALTH BATTLES
THIS isn't the first time Jessie J has faced a major health scare.
From a heart condition, to a minor stroke and now breast cancer, here are some of the conditions she has faced. . .
Jessie was diagnosed with Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome aged eight.
The heart condition causes an irregular heartbeat and can leave a patient feeling dizzy and short of breath.
Her dad also suffers from it.
At 18, she suffered a minor stroke, said to be caused by the syndrome.
At a cancer gala in 2020, she told the audience: 'I thought that I was never going to get better. I feel so lucky that I was given a second chance at life.'
In 2020, the singer temporarily experienced deafness due to Meniere's disease, a rare inner-ear disorder.
She described it as though 'someone crawled' into her ear and 'turned on a hairdryer'.
After Jessie suffered a miscarriage in 2021, she said: 'I have never experienced physical pain and trauma or felt loneliness like it.'
In 2024, the star revealed she had been diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).