Shrink-Wrap, Allergic Reactions & My Greased Pig Phase

Shrink-Wrap, Allergic Reactions & My Greased Pig Phase

🌼 Date: Wednesday, April 29, 2026

⚡ Energy: Tight, tired, and slightly irritated (understatement of the year)

💖 Status: My skin is mad, my chest is tight, and I’m officially entering the Greased Pig Phase

😕 Outlook: Hoping for relief, more oxygen, and that my skin and I can make peace soon

Today during the setup for my treatment, I noticed something that made me raise an eyebrow.

The green box on the screen (my dear old VCD – Visual Coaching Device) is getting lower and lower each day.

And that means one thing… my breathing is becoming shallower every day.

Here’s what the VCD breathing screen looks like during treatment:

The light blue background is the screen I watch while I’m lying on the table.
The green box is the “safe zone.”
The white line moves up when I inhale and down when I exhale.

My job is to take a deep breath and hold it, so the white line stays inside the green box while the machine delivers the radiation.

Lately I’ve noticed that green box keeps getting lower and lower on the screen, which means my breaths are getting shallower — most likely because my chest skin is so tight right now it feels like shrink-wrap.

I don’t think that’s a good thing.

It feels like I’m trying to wear an XS sports bra when I normally wear a L.
And no, that’s not a good look for anyone.

Thanks to my best friend Google (seriously, what did we ever do without you?), here’s what’s going on.

Radiation causes inflammation, dehydration, and the development of fibrosis — thickening and scarring of the skin. It damages skin cells and reduces elasticity, leading to dryness and that lovely “shrink-wrap” effect.

And this is also the reason my plastic surgeon is making me wait at least six months after radiation before doing my reconstructive surgery.

Apparently once radiation tightens and thickens the skin, it becomes what they politely call “not friendly.” Meaning it’s no longer soft or pliable enough for surgery to be successful.

So, before any reconstruction can happen, my skin needs time to calm down, soften back up, and start behaving like normal skin again.

No wonder it’s so hard to take a deep breath.

That probably also explains the lightheadedness and the daily headaches.

My body would really appreciate some more oxygen please.

According to Google (again, never lets me down), here’s how to manage this tightness:

• Moisturize frequently — apply recommended creams or lotions to help with dry skin.
• Gentle movement — stretching and physical therapy can help improve flexibility in the affected area.
• Contact your care team for any signs of blistered or broken skin.

Well… looks like I may have been doing Option #1 a little too faithfully.

Fast forward to after today’s treatment.

It’s Wednesday, which means I get to meet with the doctor.

He was definitely not impressed with how my skin is behaving.

That makes two of us.

He’s also concerned that the redness and itchiness are now spreading to the right side — the side that is not receiving treatment.

Lovely.

After he took some pictures (at what point will my portfolio be complete? Can I ask for copies in case I decide to pursue a modeling career later? These are the kinds of thoughts that run through my head while I’m being asked to pose in different positions), he dropped the bombshell.

He thinks I’m allergic to the Calendula cream that I’ve been faithfully slathering on my torso for the better part of three weeks now.

And, on the order of the nurse, for the past week I’ve been sealing in the cream that I’m apparently allergic to with Aquaphor so my poor skin can’t breathe at all.

Wonderful.

Since when did I become such a good girl — a rule follower, a goodie two-shoes?

Looks like I’m going back to being the rebel, the naughty rule breaker, because honestly that would have served me much better in this situation.

So I left the appointment with:

• A prescription for a new antibiotic
• An appointment to see the nurse tomorrow after treatment for a skin check
• Instructions to discontinue the Calendula cream and only use Aquaphor everywhere

Which means I am now officially entering my next phase of radiation treatment.

The Greased Pig Phase.

Aquaphor is now my new best friend.

We are going to be spending a lot of time together.

I’m basically a slip-n-slide waiting to happen.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be over here shining like a disco ball and leaving a trail of sparkle behind me.

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💗 Tina –
One Badass Day at a Time