The brief was blunt. Build a medical device that felt safe to carry and was hard to use wrong, even for someone who’d never seen it before. That last part mattered most. In an emergency, whoever’s holding it might be a trained nurse, or it might be a stranger who just watched someone collapse.

We built the industrial design around a handful of small decisions that carry most of the weight. A light grey body with a satin finish that reads as calm rather than clinical. A glossy needle shield that visually tells you not to touch it. A semi-transparent safety cap shaped to hint at what’s underneath before anyone’s even read the label.

In the first formative usability study, every test participant identified and used the device correctly. Same in the summative evaluation. The client told us afterward they hadn’t seen a result that clean in decades of MedTech development.

Patients kept missing a step and not getting their full dose. We rebuilt the secondary packaging from scratch, and tested something simple first: could a plain box, no text, no icons, guide someone through correct use just by its shape and the way the parts sat inside it?

It could. Once we layered graphics and instructions on top of that structural foundation, testing with real patients hit full compliance.

Nobody skipped a step.

The brief covered the whole platform at once: the physical medical device, its packaging, the electronics inside it, and the companion app that ties it all together. We led user-centered design across all four. It launched in 2022 and later picked up multiple recognitions for its design.

The hard part was never any single piece of it. It was making sure the medical device, the box it shipped in, and the screen in someone’s hand all told the same story.