There is a glaring gap in modern medicine. If you go deaf, there are cochlear implants. If you lose vision, you get lenses or surgery. But if your sense of smell vanishes? You’re on your own.
At Ohio State University’s otolaryngology department, Kai Zhao wants to change that.
Smell loss isn’t just an annoyance. It’s a profound, underrecognized medical condition with zero current treatments. Scientists are still figuring out how the brain organizes scent data. The mechanics of why people stop smelling anything from coffee to charcoal are fuzzy at best.
Zhao is trying a different approach than the usual “bionic nose” electrical impulse theories. He believes the solution lies in physics, not electronics. Specifically: airflow.
Redirecting the breath to restore scent
Most of the air we inhale bypasses the olfactory cleft. That’s the tiny zone deep in the nose where the olfactory bulb lives. The bulb is the hardware that processes scent signals. If air doesn’t hit it, you don’t smell it.
Zhao’s theory is simple. He wants to amplify the smell signal by forcing more air into that specific zone.
“You’re amplifying the smell signal instead of,” Zhao notes.
His team published prototype results in BMC Medicine in March 2025. They built two devices. One is a nasal foam plug. The other is a clip, similar to something a synchronized swimmer might use. Both aim to enhance odor delivery to the olfactory region using low-competition, accessible methods.
The plug works by opening the flow. The clip? That’s counterintuitive. It pinches the nasal valve. The resulting narrowing actually improves airflow function toward the olfactory zone. It seems backwards. It works.
The team used 3D printing to refine these aids. By April 2026, they presented updated results. The goal isn’t just science. It’s about helping people reconnect with the world through scent.
Real results, real limits
Jeremy Klein is a 51-year-old pastor. He lost his sense of smell to COVID in May 2025. For a year, he couldn’t detect chocolate or coffee. Then he tried Zhao’s device.
“I could smell just about everything.”
Klein put the devices in his nose. He smelled. It was “amazing.”
But this technology isn’t a magic bullet for everyone. Zhao admits that some residual smell function is likely necessary. The analogy is hearing aids. If you have zero hearing left, amplification does nothing. If you have some hearing left? The device changes your life.
Thomas Hummel, who heads the Smell and Taste Center at the Dresden University of Technology, agrees the work is commendable but cautious. Hummel has developed olfactory implants himself. He calls Zhao’s approach a “good first step,” but points out significant limitations.
The problem with the lab vs. the living room
Zhao’s research currently asks patients to identify presented odors. It doesn’t test the odor threshold—the lowest concentration an aroma can actually be detected at. That’s a big distinction. Identifying a smell is different from just sensing it.
“We have not collected long-term data yet,” Zhao says. “Some odors might be more enhanced… depending on the chemical or physical properties.”
There’s also the wearability issue. The devices live in the nasal cavity. People are weirdly sensitive about putting things up their noses. Hummel questions if patients would actually stick with it. Klein’s survey data suggests over half of users might, provided it works.
Klein himself has gripes. The prototype is black. The plugs stick out.
“It would be weird for me to go out publicly.”
So he takes it home. He’s the cook in his household. He needs to know what he’s preparing. He puts the device in his nose and takes a whiff while cooking.
“My wife laughs at me.”
It doesn’t hurt anyone. It just looks odd. Klein thinks if researchers can design something sleeker, they’ll be onto something real. Until then, the science is there. The hardware is clunky. The future of scent restoration remains open-ended, waiting for a better design.
