The Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) has this week released new data which tells us about the presence of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances (PFAS) in Australians’ bodies.

The data comes from concentrations measured in blood samples of nearly 7,000 people aged 12 and over, collected as part of the National Health Measures Survey for 2022–24.

The findings are concerning, showing PFAS are detectable in the vast majority of the Australian population, to varying levels.

But are they cause for alarm? What do these findings mean for our health?

‘Forever chemicals’

PFAS, often called “forever chemicals”, are a group of thousands of different human-made chemicals. The molecular structure of PFAS chemicals – characterised by extremely strong bonds between carbon and fluorine atoms – makes PFAS resistant to degradation.

Many PFAS products are very effective for their resistance to water, oil, grease and stains, while others promote foaming. Since the 1940s, PFAS chemicals have been widely used in many consumer and industry products, such as non-stick pans, stain-resistant fabrics and firefighting foam.

One of the downsides of PFAS is their potential to bioaccumulate, or gradually build up in the body.

Important exposure pathways include ingestion of PFAS in drinking water, in food, or absorption through the skin. Absorption of small amounts progressively builds up in the organs of people and animals, particularly the liver.

Exposure to PFAS is associated with a heightened risk of many adverse health outcomes. These include reduced fertility, and increased risk of some cancers, liver disease, kidney disease, high cholesterol and obesity.

Digging into the data

The ABS data measured 11 types of PFAS. The group of PFAS chemicals they selected reflects the most commonly detected forms from previous studies. The concentration of PFAS chemicals is measured in blood serum in nanograms per millilitre (ng/mL).

Three types of PFAS were detected in the blood of more than 85% of Australians, while the remainder were detected in lower proportions of people.

The type of PFAS most commonly detected in blood was perfluorooctanesulfonic acid (PFOS). It was found in 98.6% of samples.

PFOS accumulation has been a major problem in firefighters. Many were exposed occupationally to PFOS, sometimes for decades, and many suffered an unusually high incidence of disease, including a suspected cancer cluster.

The below graph shows the level of PFOS increases with age. This could be because it accumulates in the body over time, and because many types of PFOS are being phased out. From 2004 its use in firefighting was phased out by major users, such as the Department of Defence.

PFOS was also found to be higher in males – research shows PFAS is excreted more rapidly in females, including through menstruation and breastfeeding.

The second most commonly detected type of PFAS detected in Australian blood samples was perfluorooctanoic acid (PFOA), in 96.1% of samples. PFOA has recently been classified by the World Health Organization as a group 1 carcinogen, meaning it’s a recognised cancer-causing agent.

The third most commonly detected type of PFAS was perfluorohexane sulfonic acid (PFHxS), which was detected in 88.1% of samples.

So what are the implications?

The National Health Measures Survey identified a relationship between higher mean PFOS levels and markers of chronic disease including high total cholesterol levels, diabetes and kidney function.

However, it’s important to note this is only 7,000 people, and the data were weighted to be representative of the Australian population. There may be other factors, such as lifestyle or occupation, that have influenced the results.

While these findings may be concerning, they’re not cause for alarm. The scientific evidence more broadly doesn’t tell us conclusively whether concentrations of PFAS equivalent to those seen in the current data would have a direct effect on disease outcomes.

Some good news is that overall, this data suggests we have less PFAS in our blood compared to people in other countries.

Why this data is important

The ABS report provides the most detailed national baseline data on PFAS in the Australian population to date.

While many people are concerned about PFAS, some Australian communities have been particularly worried.

For example, in August 2024 it was revealed that a water filtration plant in the Blue Mountains contained substantial concentrations of PFAS. This was probably due to a major petrol tanker crash in 1992 and residual effects of PFAS from firefighting foam used to respond to that incident.

While people can have a blood sample taken to measure PFAS levels, it’s very expensive. NSW Health advises PFAS testing is not covered by Medicare or private health insurance.

Reports are emerging of Blue Mountains residents that have paid for blood testing getting very high concentrations of PFAS. These ABS results will help people who do receive blood testing assess how their results compare with typical results of a person of the same age and sex. People with concerns should consult a medical professional.

The ABS data will also be valuable for medical practitioners and public health authorities, providing important information to guide the management of PFAS contamination and its potential health effects.

Ian A. Wright, Associate Professor in Environmental Science, Western Sydney University

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

Ever wonder if your cat could pick you out of a line up?

New research suggests they could … but maybe not in the way you would expect.

Previous research has found that only 54% of cats could recognise humans by their face alone.

So how does your cat know it’s you?

Studying the sniff

A new study published today in PLOS One suggests your cat can recognise you by your smell. This feat has not been studied before and may reveal another layer of depth within cat-human bonds.

Cats often get a bad rap for being aloof or uncaring about the people in their lives, but a growing number of studies are finding the opposite to be true. We now know that cats learn the names we give them, cats and their guardians form their own communication style, and most cats will pick human social interaction over food, a choice even dogs struggle with.

And now, thanks to this most recent study, we know that cats can identify their people by smell, something they also rely on to identify their close feline social groups.

The study, by Yutaro Miyairi and colleagues at Tokyo University of Agriculture, investigated the ability of 30 cats to differentiate between their guardian and an unknown person based on scent alone.

Cats in the study were presented with a plastic tube containing swab samples from under the armpit, behind the ear and between the toes of either the cat’s guardian or of a human they had never met. As a control, cats were also presented with an empty plastic tube.

The results?

Cats in the study spent longer sniffing the scent of an unknown person compared to the scent of their guardian or the empty tube.

A shorter sniffing time suggests that when cats came across the smell of their guardian, they recognised it quickly and moved along. But when they came to the swabs from an unknown person, the cat sniffed longer, using their superior sense of smell to gather information about the scent.

Similar patterns have been observed previously, with kittens sniffing the odour of unknown female cats longer than the odour of their own mother, and adult cats sniffing the faeces of unfamiliar cats longer than those within their social group.

The findings of this new study may indicate that we, too, are in our cats’ social circle.

The brain and the nose

The study also found a tendency for cats to sniff familiar scents with their left nostril, while unknown scents were more often sniffed using their right. But when cats became familiar with a scent after sniffing for a while, they switched nostrils from the right to the left.

While this may sound like an odd finding, it’s a pattern that has also been observed in dogs. Current research suggests this nostril preference may indicate that cats process and classify new information using their right brain hemisphere, while the left hemisphere takes over when a routine response is established.

Why scent?

Cats rely on scent to gather information about the world around them and to communicate.

Scent exchange (through cheek-to-cheek rubbing and grooming each other) is used as a way to recognise cats in the same social circle, maintain group cohesion, and identify unfamiliar cats or other animals that may pose a threat or need to be avoided.

Familiar scents can also be comforting to cats, reducing stress and anxiety and creating a sense of security within their environment.

When you come back from a holiday, if you notice your cat being distant and acting like you’re a total stranger, it might be because you smell like one. Try taking a shower using your usual home products and put on some of your regular home clothing. The familiar scents should help you and your cat settle back into your old dynamic sooner.

And remember, if your cat spends a lot of time sniffing someone else, it’s not because they prefer them. It’s likely because your scent is familiar and requires less work. Instead of being new and interesting, it might do something even better: help your cat feel at home.

Julia Henning, PhD Candidate in Feline Behaviour, School of Animal and Veterinary Science, University of Adelaide

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

Florence Nightingale is often described as the founder of modern nursing. She was immortalised in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s 1857 poem, Santa Filomena: “A noble type of good / Heroic Womanhood.” For over a century, she has been remembered as “the lady with the lamp”, moving through the wards of war hospitals.

In Laura Elvery’s debut novel, Nightingale, she is something else entirely. She is not the symbol, but the woman – not solely the caregiver, but a patient, child and sister. It opens with an epigraph from T.S. Eliot’s Little Gidding:

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

This idea of seeing the familiar in a new light mirrors the novel’s structure and spirit. Nightingale is not a linear biography, nor a detailed account of Nightingale’s public accomplishments. It is a quiet meditation on memory, and on care and the ways it marks a life.

Review: Nightingale – Laura Elvery (UQP)

Death from poor hygiene and neglect

The novel is told in three parts across two timelines. It opens in Mayfair, London, in 1910. Florence is 90, frail and close to death. Her housekeeper, Mabel, watches over her as she drifts between moments of lucidity and memories of her past. The figure who once helped to transform military hospitals reflects on her frailty, and on Mabel’s care for her. She recalls her old instructions:

Use a clear, firm voice so the patient hears you the first time. Do not ask a patient to turn their head towards you. Let the light in. Ventilate the room. Clean the utensils. Change the sheets yourself and do it quickly, without comment.

These directions reflect Nightingale’s ethos: that death came not only from bullets, but from poor hygiene, infection and administrative neglect. Elvery hints at Nightingale’s broader impact – her work on sanitation, hospital reform and data collection – not through exposition, but through the quiet authority of her voice and the awe she commands among doctors, nurses and soldiers alike.

On her final day, Nightingale receives a visit from Silas Bradley, a former soldier whose presence unsettles both her and the reader. As Part One ends, Silas asks, “What did Jean do to me?” The question will continue to haunt the novel.

Jean Frawley, a young nurse serving under Nightingale (or “Miss N”) during the Crimean War (1853–56), is introduced in the novel’s second part. In Marseilles, on her way to Scutari, Jean meets Silas. Their brief encounter sets up a romantic subplot that runs throughout.

But this thread is also one of the novel’s weakest. Jean is introduced as capable and competent, but her story becomes dominated by her feelings for Silas. Her longing for him seems out of proportion and out of step with the more grounded scenes surrounding it. The emotional arc feels less earned, compared to the stark realism of the hospital scenes.

Vivid hospital scenes

The focus soon shifts to Scutari (part of what is now Istanbul) in 1854, and an overcrowded, filthy and overwhelmed hospital. This is the novel’s strongest section: vivid, harrowing and sharply observed.

Jean’s voice brings urgency to the everyday horrors she witnesses: “Whimpering men lay on stuffed sacks on every side of every corridor, keeping company with the rats, the roaches, the maggots.” Supplies are short, medical tools are rudimentary, nurses are exhausted. The men are dying. In this world, care is emotional work.

Elvery, known for her short-story collections Ordinary Matter and Trick of the Light, brings a lyrical, sensory style to these scenes. Her descriptions are rich with visceral, sensory detail of rats, maggots, blood and chloroform.

But the focus isn’t on historical accuracy for its own sake. Elvery is more interested in the interiority of her characters, in the psychic and bodily toll of caregiving. She doesn’t dwell on dates or battles. Instead, she focuses on what caregiving feels like: its cost, its mess and its strange intimacy.

They asked the girls to kiss them, to write for them, to tell them jokes […] One soldier asked Jean to breathe in time with him.

One of the most moving scenes comes after the war, in 1861, when Jean visits a Crimean War memorial in London. She sees “on a plinth, the figure of a cloaked woman […] arms outstretched”.

Jean expects to feel pride or recognition. Instead, she finds the statue unfamiliar. “Perhaps it was a goddess,” she thinks, noticing the “haloes of leaves that circled her wrists.” She recalls the words of the tailor who sold her her uniform: “Women can’t imagine that sort of suffering.”

The scene captures a key question in the book: who is remembered, and in what form?

Resisting mythmaking

Elvery resists mythmaking. Her Nightingale is not a saint, but a woman forged in complexity: brilliant, stubborn, sometimes difficult. The novel invites us to see her not as a symbol, but as a person shaped by illness, desire, pain and time. Nightingale is not just a novel about Florence Nightingale, or about nursing. It’s about the physical and emotional labour of care, and the people whose work often goes unnoticed.

Part Three returns to 1910 and Nightingale’s final moments. But Nightingale is not the centre of her own story. Jean’s narrative forms the novel’s emotional core, and her connection to Silas drives more of the plot than Nightingale’s recollections. In this way, Elvery shifts focus, both structurally and thematically, away from a single figure – and toward the quieter, often invisible work of caregiving itself.

In a time when the cost of care – whether in hospitals, homes, or war zones – is so visible, Nightingale feels timely. Elvery asks what it means to nurse, and to be nursed. Her novel honours the messy, human particulars of caregiving, even as it gestures toward the legacy of a woman who reshaped its very foundations.

Caitlin Macdonald, PhD candidate, Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, University of Sydney

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