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Rea Mancini

@reacrook

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Aveda Educator 💚
Life, work, love — alongside terminal Cancer
Writing honestly at @myvaginaistryingtokillme
Interiors • colour • nutrition • music

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Today was my last Chemotherapy!!
Since December, I’ve been on chemo every three weeks, alongside immunotherapy. Honestly? It’s been rough. The past six months have felt like the longest—and somehow the fastest—of my life.

It still feels like I was just told the diagnosis. I haven’t seen some of my closest friends yet… partly because I’ve been a bit of a mess—physically and mentally.

December, I was at St Joseph’s Hospice… a shining light in all of this. They helped with my pain, and I swear it’s where the NICEST people in the world gather. It felt like that was a requirement to work there!

The first four months of chemo were so hard. I’ve never been that ill before. My amazing Mama came down to help and ended up staying with us those months. I couldn’t have done it without her—or my incredible fiancé. (Yes, I still love saying fiancé!) My Dad was going through his own radiotherapy up north, while my Mum became my Florence Nightingale. I am forever grateful. 💖

I know I owe my friends an apology—I haven’t been able to see you. I was in and out of hospital, reacting so badly to chemo, even anaphylaxis. Turns out, I was allergic to one of the treatments! Then immunotherapy hit my thyroid and adrenal glands, leaving me with adrenal insufficiency.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I ended up in intensive care after an asthma attack.

It’s been a rocky road, and I have cried more than I thought was humanly possible… and I know I still have more to cry.

But today… I need to remember that I DID IT. 💪

I’m exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally—but today is a good day.

In a few weeks, I’ll move on to immunotherapy every six weeks. Fingers crossed my body lets me ride that journey for the next two years. 🤞

I’m looking forward to making new memories—walks in the park, weekends away, sofa giggles, hugs on repeat, and honest conversations.

There will be hard days ahead. But I hope they won’t feel so lonely.

It’s been a bloody journey… but today is a wee victory.

Challenge one complete.

#chemotherapy #cervicalcanceruk #immunotherapy #hairloss #mentalhealth #family #stbarts #cancerjourney #chemohair #cancer #metastaticcancer taken in St Bartholomew's Hospital by @reacrook

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a year ago

World Cancer Day

A message to my former self.

You don’t know it yet but your world is about to change in ways you never imagined. There will be days when fear feels louder than hope. There will be days when you cry for hours and that’s okay, every feeling has its place. Cancer does take everything, it takes you sometimes! However what comes from this is strength that’s feels untouchable, finally you won’t sweat the small stuff.
You won’t be the same person after this but you will be YOU in the truest way possible. So don’t waste time on regrets, surround yourself with your people and enjoy yourself xxx ❤️❤️#

#worldcancerday2025
#cervicalcancer
#bonecancer
#macmilliancancersupport #macmillancancer taken in St Joseph's Hospice by @reacrook

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2 years ago

Let’s get down to business

After 6 months I can finally say I am home, and onto the next chapter.
To the Royal London Intensive care team, wow what a job you do! I have met some incredible people and made some friends along the way ❤️🙏🏻 so very Grateful.To the Physio Team and all involved at Homerton RNRU, Thank you for all your hard work.
To my wonderful family and friends, I couldn’t have done this without your constant love and support ❤️
And lastly to my superhero @davide_mancini88_ !! What an incredible human you are.

Nothing but love xx Thank you xx

#guillainbarresyndrome #gbssurvivor#getbetterslowly #gbsquad taken in Homerton University Hospital by @reacrook

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4 years ago

One whole year of being Mrs Mancini. And knowing everything I know now, I would choose you again. In a heartbeat. 🤍

A year since you made my dreams come true and I got to marry you. And what a bloody year it’s been.

Sometimes I still look at you and think, “How did I get so lucky that you’re mine?” I’ll catch you sleeping beside me and wish I could press pause. Stay there a little longer. Have a thousand more mornings just like this.

You’ve been beside me on my happiest days, my sick days, my scared days and the days when I haven’t quite felt like myself. You make me feel safe, heard and so very loved. I hope you feel just as loved by me.

I see everything you do. The little things you probably think I haven’t noticed. The way you keep showing up. The comfort of knowing you’re there, even when neither of us knows what to say.

Words mean more to me now than they ever have, and still I struggle to find ones that do you justice. I love you more than I know how to say. You still give me butterflies, you make me happier than you realise, and I’m so proud to be your wife. Even after a year, calling you my husband makes me smile. 🤍

Whatever else life has thrown at us, I look at you and think, “I got this bit so very right.”

And I want so much more with you. More adventures, more laughing, more ordinary days with you and Arthur. More waking up beside you and deciding what we’ll do with our day. Things we might once have taken for granted that now mean absolutely everything.

Happy first wedding anniversary, my Davide. Marrying you was a dream come true. Getting to be your wife, in all those little everyday moments since, is something I treasure more than I can explain.

All my love, with everything I have.
Your Mrs Mancini xxx 🤍

#FirstWeddingAnniversary #MrsMancini #OneYearMarried #LoveOfMyLife #OurLoveStory taken in London, United Kingdom by @reacrook

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16 hours ago

This photo came up today and my first thought was… who is she?

I look so different now. But the strangest thing is, I feel so different too.
If you knew me back then, you’ll know I lived with the most horrendous anxiety and OCD. It was like waking up with fear already switched on. 24/7.

I could worry about something that happened yesterday, last year — or a conversation I’d had in 1992. 😂 I was never really in the moment because my brain was always somewhere else, catastrophising something.

And for a long time, alcohol became a way of quietening it.

Drink one and I’d feel grounded.
Drink two and I could suddenly rationalise all the things I’d spent the day catastrophising. I’d breathe normally and think, see, everything is actually fine.

Then drink three became four, five, six… and sometimes blackout drunk.

Which, as you can imagine, is not ideal for an OCD brain the next morning.

WHAT THE HELL DID I DO?! 🫠

So when this photo appeared today, I felt sad for her.

Because she had absolutely no idea what was coming.

And here’s the bit I still can’t quite get my head around:

I have terminal cancer now, yet somehow I am less afraid of life than I was then.

I’m more present.
I love harder.
I notice the tiny things.
I laugh more.
I know what matters to me.

Of course I’m scared. Of course I have awful days. And I would give anything not to have cancer.

But I also don’t want to pretend that something in me hasn’t changed.

I spent so much of my life frightened of things that might happen.

Then something I could never have imagined did happen.

And somewhere along the way, I started living.

I look at that girl now and barely recognise her.

I miss her. But I don’t miss being her. ❤️

#OCD #Anxiety #LivingWithCancer #CervicalCancer #ThenAndNow taken in London, United Kingdom by @reacrook

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10 days ago

Lymphoedema couture, darling. It’s a look. 😂

The gift that keeps on bloody giving…

I’ve been dealing with lymphoedema since my first cancer diagnosis in 2021. It started in my groin, but it’s got worse and now affects my left leg — even the way I walk.

So alongside everything else, there are trips to the lymphoedema clinic at the Royal Marsden, sessions on the compression machine and this rather exclusive wardrobe. One long leg, one little short. Fashion is about taking risks, apparently. 🙃

And my lovely Davide, supportive as ever: “No, amore, it’s fine.” 😂🤍

I laugh, I pose, I make a joke of the outfit. But some days, it really does feel like the last straw. Another change to my body. Another appointment. Another thing to manage when I already feel like I’m carrying quite enough.

You can find something funny and still find it really bloody hard.

Having someone who makes me feel loved through all of it means more than I can explain. I wish everyone had a Davide in their life.

The leg clip after the machine shows where we got to that day. Then it’s shoes back on — finding a little happy-feet moment wherever I can. ✨

Anyone else rocking compression couture? xxx

#Lymphoedema #LymphedemaAwareness #LifeWithCancer #CervicalCancer #CompressionGarments taken in The Royal Marsden Hospital by @reacrook

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13 days ago

I wish I could bottle how this felt. ❤️

Sunshine in my parents’ garden. Davide cutting Dad’s hair. Arthur supervising. Me, with my favourite boys, feeling happy.

We come from a family of hairdressers, so even a trip home turns into a shift. At least the salon has a decent outdoor area 😂✂️

For a little while, cancer wasn’t the loudest thing in my head. I wasn’t thinking ahead or worrying about what came next. I was just there. And life felt good.

These quiet little moments are where I feel safest now. At home with my people, doing something so ordinary I might once have forgotten to take a video.

I’m so glad I took this one.

The sunshine. My boys. An afternoon I wanted to last a little longer.

Nothing much was happening. And I wanted every second of it. ❤️

#livingwithcancer #hairdresserslife #FamilyTime #CervicalCancer
#littlemoments taken in Inverness, Scotland by @reacrook

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18 days ago

Getting to chemo should count as a shift in itself.

A bus, two trains and a walk before I’ve even sat in the chair. Then treatment, and the small matter of getting myself home again.

This is the bit of cancer treatment you don’t always see. The travelling, the waiting, the organising and how much of your life it takes up.

#CancerLife #ChemoDay #LivingWithCancer #CervicalCancer #Tivdak taken in The Royal Marsden Hospital by @reacrook

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a month ago

I went to Portugal for a bit of sun and came home feeling more like myself. Hadn’t realised quite how lost I was.
Today it’s bloods at the Marsden, tomorrow it’s chemo .Lovely smooth transition back to reality. Shocking holiday aftercare... Somewhere between appointments, side effects and getting my head around “terminal cancer”, being Rea had slipped down the list. Writing is helping me find my way back. It gives me somewhere to put what’s going round my head. The bits you don’t see in a smiling holiday photo, or hear when you ask, “How are you?”

Honestly? It’s scary. And bloody lonely sometimes.

I have a husband I adore and people who love me. But being loved and feeling alone can happen at the same time. Especially when you’re imagining a future you’ve been told you might not have.
I’m not a doctor, yet sometimes I feel like I’m steering my own ship. Reading about treatments, looking into trials, wondering what else I could be doing.
I did not apply to be captain. I was far more suited to lying on the deck with Davide.

My latest scan shows treatment is keeping the cancer at bay, with no new cancer seen. I’m holding onto that. My hope is to keep this body as healthy as I can, with my team’s help, while treatment buys me time. Time for science to bring more options. For a trial that might accept me. Am I hoping for a radical remission? Absofuckinglutely. I know there are no guarantees, but please don’t shite on my happy vibes! I’ve got Davide to love, Arthur to cause chaos with, family and friends to make more memories with, and a whole bloody life I still want to live. Today I feel hopeful. I’ve missed this feeling.

I want to share more of the reality here and connect with people who understand. If you’re in a similar boat or know of treatments, trials, or options I may not have come across please get in touch.
I’d quite like some shipmates. 🤍 xx

#livingwithcancer #CervicalCancer #CancerCommunity #cancer #terminal taken in The Royal Marsden Hospital by @reacrook

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a month ago

Terminal cancer gets you thinking.

And I think all the bloody time.

When I was told my cancer was terminal, I asked how long I had. Her answer floored me.

All I could think was: I don’t have time.

I started questioning what I’d achieved with my time on this earth. Was I successful? Had I done enough?

For years, I thought success meant your career, money, your house—or the Hermès bag. All lovely, obviously. I’m not completely cured of materialism.

But perhaps success is how we grow as we move through life. Making mistakes, owning them, putting things right where we can—and learning to do better. Loving people, allowing ourselves to be loved, and becoming someone we can feel proud of.

I’m not the person I was at 22, or even 32. At 42, I’m still learning. Still evolving. And I’m beginning to recognise that as an achievement in itself.

For me, part of that growth has been learning how to actually be present in my own life.

I’ve spent most of my life with terrible anxiety—cheers, OCD. I’ve overthought my overthinking and replayed conversations from 1999 with people I’ve never even seen again.

Anxiety stole so much of my life.

But strangely, during this brutal health journey, my mind became quieter. I experienced periods of being more present and happier than I had ever been before.

I’m not there at the moment.

Right now, I feel flat. I’m struggling to accept what terminal cancer means, and somewhere in that grief, I started losing myself again.

But I know that happier, more present version of me exists—because I’ve met her.

And now I want more time with her.

So this is me coming back. Not because I have everything figured out, but because I don’t want to quietly let go of myself, my voice or my dreams.

I’m here.

And I’m still living.

#LivingWithCancer #CervicalCancer #terminal #redefiningsuccess #gbs taken in London, United Kingdom by @reacrook

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a month ago

Today I received another letter asking whether we wanted to continue storing our embryos.

Eleven tiny possibilities.

Eleven little maybe’s.

When Davide and I went through IVF, I remember being asked what should happen if one of us died. Would we allow the other person to use them?

At the time, it felt like one of those forms you tick without really reading. The sort of question that belonged to other people. Other lives.

I assumed everything would be okay.

Now here we are.

It’s strange knowing that somewhere, in storage, sit eleven tiny potential Mancinis.

I never really wanted children. Not ever.

Then I met Davide.

And suddenly the idea of creating another human with him felt beautiful.

Not just a child, but a little mixture of two people who somehow found each other in this huge world.

Also, if we’re being honest, it feels like a terrible waste not to unleash at least a few miniature Davides upon society.

We managed eleven embryos. That’s practically a football team.

Cancer takes so much.

Not just from the person diagnosed.

It takes things from partners. Parents. Families. Futures.

The things you expected to happen without ever really stopping to think about them.

So today I ticked the box to keep storing them.

Maybe because I’m not ready to let go.

Maybe because miracles happen.

Or maybe because hope comes in many forms.

Sometimes hope looks like eleven tiny possibilities quietly waiting their turn.

For now, that’s enough.

#Cancer #CancerJourney #IVFJourney #Hope #Love taken in London, United Kingdom by @reacrook

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4 months ago

Lately I’ve realised I’m not really living, I’m managing cancer.

I wake up and search things.Treatments. Trials. Statistics. Stories. Supplements.I eat something and immediately question if it was the wrong choice. Too much sugar. Too many carbs. Not enough fasting. It’s exhausting.

And writing this has made me realise something else… I barely see my friends anymore and that’s mostly down to me.

I think somewhere along the line I started feeling guilty for doing anything that interrupted “research time.” Like if I’m not actively searching for something that might save me, then I’m wasting time.

Which is ironic really, because while I’m desperately trying to stay alive, I’m also forgetting to properly live.

People keep saying “make the most of your time” and I know they mean well, but sometimes I think people imagine that means skydiving, holidays or inspirational moments. A lot of the time it actually looks like sitting beside your husband in silence feeling terrified.

Sometimes I look at Davide and my mind immediately jumps to him without me. My parents. My brother. Everyone carrying on. And I know that sounds dark, but I think when you’re given a serious prognosis, part of you starts grieving while you’re still here.

That grief is exhausting.

And maybe that’s why this whole thing feels so lonely sometimes. Because outwardly you’re still alive, still functioning, still talking… while internally your mind is carrying fear almost constantly.

Reading this back, part of me thinks I should soften it because it sounds utterly depressing . But this is honestly what goes through my head most days.

I don’t even know if these thoughts are normal or not. I think it’s just the part nobody really talks about.
Anyway. No big inspirational ending.Just honesty.

#lifeafterdiagnosis #griefandlove #cancerjourney #terminalcancer #fearandhope taken in London, United Kingdom by @reacrook

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5 months ago