Two siblings experience life-changing moment of hearing clarity, side by side

Harold and Niki Thronson, 14 and 12, were born with Treacher Collins syndrome, a rare genetic disorder that affects the development of facial bones and tissues and often causes hearing loss. Despite these challenges, the siblings share an unbreakable bond, supporting each other through school, sports, and medical milestones.

On the morning of January 14, 2026, the siblings experienced a life-changing moment: the activation of their Osia bone conduction hearing implants at Loma Linda University Children's Hospital. Niki went first. She sat still, a small, anxious smile on her face, eyes fixed straight ahead. Harold sat right next to her, watching silently, waiting for her reaction.

"You can hear me?" asked their mom, Margaret Thronson. "Yeah!" Niki replied. "Yay! I got my hearing aid!"

Moments like this are especially meaningful in childhood and adolescence, when hearing plays an important role in development. "Providing access to sound as early as possible helps stimulate auditory pathways that support speech and language development, academic performance and literacy, as well as social-emotional growth, behavior, and mental health," said Mayah Navarro, Au.D., pediatric audiologist at Loma Linda University Children's Hospital.

After Niki's device was fully on, Harold had his turn. They had planned it that way.

For Harold and Niki, the moment was more than a medical milestone. It was the culmination of years of waiting, deciding, and, above all, choosing not to move forward without one another.

"They don't like to make big decisions alone," Thronson said. "They always check in with each other first."

That instinct shows up in small ways. If asked what dessert they want, the siblings will glance at each other before answering. When something exciting or difficult comes up, they pause, confer, and then respond, together, said Thronson.

Harold and Niki entered Thronson's home more than a decade ago as foster children, malnourished, medically fragile, and without consistent access to communication. Harold was 4. Niki was 2. Neither had hearing aids, sign language, or speech support.

"They were trying so hard to communicate," Thronson said. "They just didn't have the tools."

"The developing brain relies on consistent access to sound during childhood and adolescence, when auditory pathways are most adaptable," said Navarro.

Harold, even then, took on a protective role. Though barely a preschooler himself, he watched over his younger sister with a seriousness that suggested responsibility rather than sibling rivalry.

"He came to us as her caregiver," Thronson said.

In 2018, both children received their first bone-anchored hearing implants. Harold's were successful. Niki's were not. Her body repeatedly rejected the implant, her skin growing over the site despite months of treatment. Eventually, doctors removed it, and Niki relied instead on a soft-band bone conduction device, a headband that often shifted out of place, especially during cheerleading.

Years later, when audiologists suggested the Osia implant, a newer, fully under-the-skin option, Niki was interested. But she hesitated.

"She said she wasn't doing it unless Harold did it with her," Thronson said.

At the time, Harold declined. His existing implant worked, and surgery wasn't something he felt ready to repeat. So Niki waited.

That changed last year. Harold, who plays football and baseball, struggled to keep consistent access to sound during sports. His older implant glitched with movement and interfered with play. When he learned the Osia implant would sit beneath the skin, he reconsidered.

"I think I'm ready," he told his mother, after talking it over with his sister.

The Cochlear Osia system is a hearing device with two parts: one placed under the skin and one worn on the outside. The internal part sends sound directly to the inner ear via gentle vibrations, bypassing parts of the ear that don't work well. The small outer processor sticks on with a magnet, picks up sounds around the child, and sends them to the implant so they can be heard more clearly.

Unlike regular hearing aids, which rely on the outer and middle ear, the Osia bypasses those areas entirely.

"Most children who are born with or acquire hearing loss grow up in families and communities that communicate through sound," Navarro said. "Our role is to provide as much support as possible through appropriate amplification and interdisciplinary care, so these children are equipped to succeed and thrive into adulthood."

In November 2025, Harold and Niki underwent surgery together. In the preoperative area, nurses separated their beds with a privacy curtain. The siblings immediately pointed at it. Could it be moved? Could the beds be pushed together?

The answer was yes.

"They're inseparable," Thronson said. "They always have been."

After two months of healing, they returned for activation, Niki first, then Harold.

During a car drive after activation, Thronson watched Harold in the rearview mirror. He kept making faces, startled, curious, amused.

"I can hear the cars outside the car," he said.

Later, he pointed out what he thought was a train. It turned out to be a diesel truck. But the distinction didn't matter. What mattered was that the sound arrived whole.

For hearing people, these are background noises. For Harold and Niki, they were revelations.

"In infants, we see inquisitive facial expressions, stronger responses to environmental sounds, and improved sound localization," Navarro said. "In older children, activation is often met with smiles as conversation begins to flow." Over time, those changes compound. "We see meaningful improvements in vocabulary, interactions with family and peers, pragmatic (social) language skills, and fewer communication breakdowns."

Bone conduction hearing doesn't replicate natural hearing. It offers access, not equivalence. But the clarity is fuller than before.

"They're hearing things they've never heard," Thronson said. "Watching them process it, it's incredible."

They're now waiting to receive their second Osia implants, which will be placed after doctors confirm the first is fully successful. Until then, football is paused. Cheer season is on hold.

They're used to waiting.

What makes this moment different, Thronson said, is that the decision was entirely theirs.

"They understood everything this time," she said. "They made an informed choice."

And, as always, they made it together.

For families navigating hearing loss or Treacher Collins syndrome, resources and support are available. To consult with or schedule an appointment with the Loma Linda University Children's Hospital Pediatric Ear, Nose, Throat Surgery, and Audiology, click here.