Rushed to the hospital with unbearable pain, Chris Meek discovered not only a ruptured gallbladder but an unexpected case of kidney cancer. Fortunately, the cancer had not spread. Meek, a social studies teacher in Wilmington, North Carolina, was 47 years old at the time. For years, he pondered over why he developed cancer, as he didn’t consider himself at risk. The pieces fell into place after a guest talk by Emily Donovan at his school, where she discussed the high levels of hazardous “forever chemicals” called PFAS in North Carolina’s environment. When Donovan included kidney cancer in her discussion, Meek finally recognized a potential reason for his condition.
Previously, Meek admitted he “had no idea what PFAS was.” The Environmental Protection Agency made headlines last year when it established the first federal drinking water limits for these chemicals, also known as perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances. The EPA linked these substances to a heightened risk of cardiovascular disease, specific cancers, and underweight births. In an important decision affecting millions of Americans, the Trump administration soon had to decide whether to uphold these stringent standards against challenges from the water utility industry in a federal court case.
In North Carolina, the discovery of PFAS in drinking water caused a crisis for numerous communities. A Chemours plant polluted the Cape Fear River with runoff, affecting cities like Wilmington that depend on it for drinking water. Public outcry led Wilmington to successfully eliminate PFAS from its water supply. Various other U.S. communities, particularly those near military bases or industrial areas, responded similarly by shutting down contaminated wells or installing costly filtration systems. The chemicals have broad usage, from waterproofing clothes to making effective firefighting foam, and they tend to accumulate in the body. Increasing evidence now suggests harm at much lower exposure levels.
The EPA’s recent rule established a 4 parts per trillion standard for two common PFAS types, essentially equating to the lowest detectable levels. Additional PFAS chemicals were addressed under the new rule, and water utilities must comply by 2029. The Biden administration’s environmental policies, led by EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin, aim to enforce these regulations, though Zeldin has shown some support for fossil fuel interests.
The utility industry has expressed concerns about the economic implications of these rules. They estimate the cost of compliance at $1.5 billion annually. Smaller towns with modest PFAS levels above the new limits, like Avondale, Arizona, anticipate significant financial strain to meet these requirements—potentially spending over $120 million, a sum beyond their immediate financial capabilities. There’s a suggestion that wealthier areas might handle stricter limits while disadvantaged localities could need different support.
In response to the ongoing situation, the EPA plans further measures, such as establishing leads for PFAS issues and developing wastewater limits for manufacturers. The agency is also investigating sources that pose immediate threats to drinking water. Meanwhile, the American Water Works Association has challenged the new rule, arguing that it overestimates health benefits, does not accurately assess costs, and imposes harsh financial burdens, particularly on small utilities already struggling with existing infrastructure and new lead pipe replacement requirements.
While some see the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law’s $9 billion allocation for chemical management as a solution, including PFAS remediation, concerns persist about whether this funding is sufficient. As for Meek, he has recovered well from his cancer surgery and now turns to bottled water. He is contemplating legal action related to his illness. Emily Donovan, who raised Meek’s awareness regarding PFAS and established Clean Cape Fear, warns that if the government eases the standards, utilities might reduce efforts to treat the water effectively.