Who we are?

Our Story: Why the Sound Case Exists

In 2016, my world changed. I had about 70% hearing in one ear and 30% in the other—a reality I had lived with since childhood. Lip-reading wasn’t just a skill for me; it was a lifeline. At age 14, I had my first of twelve surgeries to remove a life-threatening recurring cholesteatoma, a condition that ultimately forced me to leave public school and continue my education at home.

Then in 2017, my left eardrum ruptured. The hearing I had left was nearly gone. For months, I lived in near silence while waiting for a titanium abutment to be implanted in my skull. Another six months passed before I could finally wear the BAHA Cochlear processor that would change my life.

The day I first turned it on, I expected clarity—what I got instead sounded like static. I looked at my doctor, concerned, and asked if the frequencies could be adjusted. She smiled and said, “Chris, that noise you’re hearing… it’s the heat duct. You’ve never heard it before.” That moment hit me hard. I wasn’t just hearing static—I was hearing the world, truly, for the first time.

But this gift came with new challenges.

Like many cochlear implant users, I take my processor off at night. One night, I set it on my chest and dozed off. Hours later, I woke up to the vibration of my phone buzzing on the dresser. When you're deaf, those vibrations feel like a million spiders crawling across your skin. Still half asleep, I reached for my processor—and it was gone.

Panic surged. I checked the usual spots: desk, nightstand, floor. Nothing. And with each minute that passed, the weight of my responsibilities came crashing in. I had important calls to make, kids to see, a life to manage—and without my processor, I was cut off from all of it. My mind spiraled: “What if I can’t hear my daughter’s concert this week? What if my son visits and I can’t hear his voice? If I can’t find it… how will I come up with $10,000 to replace it?”

I searched until sunrise. Then, just as I collapsed back into bed in defeat, I absentmindedly dropped my hands onto the covers and felt something… hard. After a moment of confusion, I realized: it had fallen into the front pouch of my boxer shorts. I laughed. I cried. I knew I never wanted to go through that again.

When I told my friend Adam what happened, he understood the fear immediately. He suggested we build something to prevent this from ever happening again. We teamed up, took an engineering course taught by Mark Rober, and designed our first prototype—a small, wearable case that could securely store my processor even if I took it off while half-asleep.

We called it the Sound Case.

Since then, I haven’t lost my processor once. The Sound Case, worn like an amulet, gave me peace of mind and a way to always keep my connection to sound within reach. I knew I had to share it.

That’s why we started the Sound Case Initiative—to ensure that no cochlear implant user ever has to experience the panic, helplessness, and fear that I did.

Our mission is simple: give every cochlear implant user the security they deserve.

Because sometimes, something as small as a case can mean everything.