Living in a cage

OK it’s not really a cage. Just a partial cage. An expensive partial cage.

This is a bone growth stimulator, which my physiatrist prescribed in January. Getting the prescription through the insurance review and approval process took six weeks. And it’s not cheap either: $4500, of which I’ll owe about $1000.

Since it’s a prescription device, it’s got all sorts of very specific parameters. I can use it just once a day for 30 minutes at a time, and it should be used about the same time every day. As you can see from the photo, I can't sit down while using it. So I stand around awkwardly or try to do stuff that doesn't require bending over. I'm holding the controls, which don't really fit into most pockets. So that adds to the awkwardness of standing.

The device resets at 10 PM Central and flat won’t let me double up doses in one day. It’s also metered and has 270 doses. Once I started using it, the clock started. When I hit the 270th day, that’s it, the device becomes nothing more than weird looking trash. It also can’t be recycled, which bothers me a lot.

It also can’t go through an x-ray machine which means if I’m still using this when I head to Idaho for our family reunion, I can’t take it with me.

What's in your bag?

Makeup bag that is—if you wear makeup.

A few weeks ago, my sis asked what I was using these days so I sent her these two photos. She replied back that it looked exhausting. I was deeply amused since she’s the one who take the most exquisite care applying her mascara and then using a straight pin to ensure the mascara is perfectly placed with no clumps. No judgment here, I’m a fan of you do you.

Anyway, here’s my makeup and moisture stuff. Note, please, that I have some similar makeup items and I don’t use them at the same time. For example, I have a shimmery peachy eye shadow and I have one almost the exact same shade only with no shimmer. I don’t wear both, it’s one or the other. Same thing with mascara—they are different, and I don’t use both every day.