Most of us are fortunate that, when we turn on the tap, clean, safe and high-quality water comes out.

But a senate inquiry into the presence of PFAS or “forever chemicals” is putting the safety of our drinking water back in the spotlight.

Lidia Thorpe, the independent senator leading the inquiry, says Elders in the Aboriginal community of Wreck Bay in New South Wales are “buying bottled water out of their aged care packages” due to concerns about the health impacts of PFAS in their drinking water.

So, how is water deemed safe to drink in Australia? And why does water quality differ in some areas?

Here’s what happens between a water catchment and your tap.

Human intervention in the water cycle

There is no “new” water on Earth. The water we drink can be up to 4.5 billion years old and is continuously recycled through the hydrological cycle. This transfers water from the ground to the atmosphere through evaporation and back again (for example, through rain).

Humans interfere with this natural cycle by trapping and redirecting water from various sources to use. A lot happens before it reaches your home.

The quality of the water when you turn on the tap depends on a range of factors, including the local geology, what kind of activities happen in catchment areas, and the different treatments used to process it.

How do we decide what’s safe?

The Australian Drinking Water Guidelines define what is considered safe, good-quality drinking water.

The guidelines set acceptable water quality values for more than 250 physical, chemical and bacterial contaminants. They take into account any potential health impact of drinking the contaminant over a lifetime as well as aesthetics – the taste and colour of the water.

The guidelines are not mandatory but provide the basis for determining if the quality of water to be supplied to consumers in all parts of Australia is safe to drink. The guidelines undergo rolling revision to ensure they represent the latest scientific evidence.

From water catchment to tap

Australians’ drinking water mainly comes from natural catchments. Sources include surface water, groundwater and seawater (via desalination).

Public access to these areas is typically limited to preserve optimal water quality.

Filtration and purification of water occurs naturally in catchments as it passes through soil, sediments, rocks and vegetation.

But catchment water is subject to further treatment via standard processes that typically focus on:

• removing particulates (for example, soil and sediment)
• filtration (to remove particles and their contaminants)
• disinfection (for example, using chlorine and chloramine to kill bacteria and viruses)
• adding fluoride to prevent tooth decay
• adjusting pH to balance the chemistry of the water and to aid filtration.

This water is delivered to our taps via a reticulated system – a network of underground reservoirs, pipes, pumps and fittings.

In areas where there is no reticulated system, drinking water can also be sourced from rainwater tanks. This means the quality of drinking water can vary.

Sources of contamination can come from roof catchments feeding rainwater tanks as well from the tap due to lead in plumbing fittings and materials.

So, does all water meet these standards?

Some rural and remote areas, especially First Nations communities, rely on poor-quality surface water and groundwater for their drinking water.

Rural and regional water can exceed recommended guidelines for salt, microbial contaminants and trace elements, such as lead, manganese and arsenic.

The federal government and other agencies are trying to address this.

There are many impacts of poor regional water quality. These include its implication in elevated rates of tooth decay in First Nations people. This occurs when access to chilled, sugary drinks is cheaper and easier than access to good quality water.

What about PFAS?

There is also renewed concern about the presence of PFAS or “forever” chemicals in drinking water.

Recent research examining the toxicity of PFAS chemicals along with their presence in some drinking water catchments in Australia and overseas has prompted a recent assessment of water source contamination.

A review by the National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC) proposed lowering the limits for four PFAS chemicals in drinking water: PFOA, PFOS, PFHxS and PFBS.

The review used publicly available data and found most drinking water supplies are currently below the proposed new guideline values for PFAS.

However, “hotspots” of PFAS remain where drinking water catchments or other sources (for example, groundwater) have been impacted by activities where PFAS has been used in industrial applications. And some communities have voiced concerns about an association between elevated PFAS levels in their communities and cancer clusters.

While some PFAS has been identified as carcinogenic, it’s not certain that PFAS causes cancer. The link is still being debated.

Importantly, assessment of exposure levels from all sources in the population shows PFAS levels are falling meaning any exposure risk has also reduced over time.

How about removing PFAS from water?

Most sources of drinking water are not associated with industrial contaminants like PFAS. So water sources are generally not subject to expensive treatment processes, like reverse osmosis, that can remove most waterborne pollutants, including PFAS. These treatments are energy-intensive and expensive and based on recent water quality assessments by the NHMRC will not be needed.

While contaminants are everywhere, it is the dose that makes the poison. Ultra-low concentrations of chemicals including PFAS, while not desirable, may not be harmful and total removal is not warranted.

Mark Patrick Taylor, Chief Environmental Scientist, EPA Victoria; Honorary Professor, School of Natural Sciences, Macquarie University; Antti Mikkonen, Principal Health Risk Advisor – Chemicals, EPA Victoria, and PhD graduate, School of Pharmacy and Medical Sciences, University of South Australia, and Minna Saaristo, Research Affiliate in the School of Biological Sciences, Monash University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

In the 2007 film The Bucket List Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman play two main characters who respond to their terminal cancer diagnoses by rejecting experimental treatment. Instead, they go on a range of energetic, overseas escapades.

Since then, the term “bucket list” – a list of experiences or achievements to complete before you “kick the bucket” or die – has become common.

You can read articles listing the seven cities you must visit before you die or the 100 Australian bucket-list travel experiences. https://www.youtube.com/embed/UvdTpywTmQg?wmode=transparent&start=0

But there is a more serious side to the idea behind bucket lists. One of the key forms of suffering at the end of life is regret for things left unsaid or undone. So bucket lists can serve as a form of insurance against this potential regret.

The bucket-list search for adventure, memories and meaning takes on a life of its own with a diagnosis of life-limiting illness.

In a study published this week, we spoke to 54 people living with cancer, and 28 of their friends and family. For many, a key bucket list item was travel.

Why is travel so important?

There are lots of reasons why travel plays such a central role in our ideas about a “life well-lived”. Travel is often linked to important life transitions: the youthful gap year, the journey to self-discovery in the 2010 film Eat Pray Love, or the popular figure of the “grey nomad”.

The significance of travel is not merely in the destination, nor even in the journey. For many people, planning the travel is just as important. A cancer diagnosis affects people’s sense of control over their future, throwing into question their ability to write their own life story or plan their travel dreams.

Mark, the recently retired husband of a woman with cancer, told us about their stalled travel plans:

We’re just in that part of our lives where we were going to jump in the caravan and do the big trip and all this sort of thing, and now [our plans are] on blocks in the shed.

For others, a cancer diagnosis brought an urgent need to “tick things off” their bucket list. Asha, a woman living with breast cancer, told us she’d always been driven to “get things done” but the cancer diagnosis made this worse:

So, I had to do all the travel, I had to empty my bucket list now, which has kind of driven my partner round the bend.

People’s travel dreams ranged from whale watching in Queensland to seeing polar bears in the Arctic, and from driving a caravan across the Nullarbor Plain to skiing in Switzerland.

Nadia, who was 38 years old when we spoke to her, said travelling with her family had made important memories and given her a sense of vitality, despite her health struggles. She told us how being diagnosed with cancer had given her the chance to live her life at a younger age, rather than waiting for retirement:

In the last three years, I think I’ve lived more than a lot of 80-year-olds.

But travel is expensive

Of course, travel is expensive. It’s not by chance Nicholson’s character in The Bucket List is a billionaire.

Some people we spoke to had emptied their savings, assuming they would no longer need to provide for aged care or retirement. Others had used insurance payouts or charity to make their bucket-list dreams come true.

But not everyone can do this. Jim, a 60-year-old whose wife had been diagnosed with cancer, told us:

We’ve actually bought a new car and [been] talking about getting a new caravan […] But I’ve got to work. It’d be nice if there was a little money tree out the back but never mind.

Not everyone’s bucket list items were expensive. Some chose to spend more time with loved ones, take up a new hobby or get a pet.

Our study showed making plans to tick items off a list can give people a sense of self-determination and hope for the future. It was a way of exerting control in the face of an illness that can leave people feeling powerless. Asha said:

This disease is not going to control me. I am not going to sit still and do nothing. I want to go travel.

Something we ‘ought’ to do?

Bucket lists are also a symptom of a broader culture that emphasises conspicuous consumption and productivity, even into the end of life.

Indeed, people told us travelling could be exhausting, expensive and stressful, especially when they’re also living with the symptoms and side effects of treatment. Nevertheless, they felt travel was something they “ought” to do.

Travel can be deeply meaningful, as our study found. But a life well-lived need not be extravagant or adventurous. Finding what is meaningful is a deeply personal journey.

Names of study participants mentioned in this article are pseudonyms.

Leah Williams Veazey, ARC DECRA Research Fellow, University of Sydney; Alex Broom, Professor of Sociology & Director, Sydney Centre for Healthy Societies, University of Sydney, and Katherine Kenny, ARC DECRA Senior Research Fellow, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.