Asbestos claims its third wave of victims

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Asbestos claims its third wave of victims

By Girion | National Correspondent

Posted May 19, 2002

Pugh's first clue was a nosebleed. A few hours earlier, she had

walked in cap and gown across the stage at Stillman College in Tuscaloosa,

Ala., becoming the first member of her family to collect a college diploma.

Now, as she packed up to leave campus, her nose started to bleed

uncontrollably. That summer, a mysterious malaise set in.

Eighteen months later, Pugh learned that she had mesothelioma, a rare,

incurable form of cancer associated with asbestos. Pugh, 26, didn't even

know what asbestos was, much less where she might have encountered it.

Doctors told her she had three months to live.

" They couldn't operate, " she said. " I just had to pray to God. "

Pugh belongs to the third wave of mesothelioma victims. The first were

miners who dug the mineral out of the Earth and workers who sprayed heavy

concentrations of asbestos insulation into ships, buildings and homes. The

second wave included retired construction workers, pipe fitters and others

who worked with or near insulation and other asbestos products.

The third wave, which was largely unanticipated when asbestos emerged as a

health crisis in the 1970s, is made up younger people, some of whom are

being diagnosed with mesothelioma in their 50s, 40s, 30s and even 20s. In

contrast to previous victims, many have no idea how they came in contact

with asbestos and must go searching for answers.

Often, they learn that they inhaled the toxic fibers in the most innocent

and familiar of settings -- on the lap of a father just home from a

construction site, or in a laundry room where dusty overalls were washed.

Others trace their illness to a long-forgotten summer job or a

do-it-yourself home improvement project.

" Some die without knowing, " said Randy Bono, a lawyer in Wood River, Ill.,

who represents mesothelioma victims. " We try to hurry without rushing. Most

of the cases never get to trial before they die. "

Mesothelioma is the most lethal legacy of the nation's embrace of asbestos,

which peaked in 1973 when annual U.S. consumption reached 1 million tons.

Prized as a cheap fire retardant and filler material, the " miracle fiber "

was used in more than 3,500 products from insulation to floor tiles.

Although its use in the United States has declined steeply, the

commercialization of asbestos has yet to loosen its grip on public health.

Because symptoms typically appear 15 to 40 years after the first exposure to

asbestos, mesothelioma has been described as an epidemic in slow motion.

Cases diagnosed today may reflect experiences from as long ago as the early

1960s.

An estimated 2,500 new cases are identified each year in the United States.

Epidemiological evidence is scant, but National Cancer Institute surveys

indicate the incidence of mesothelioma doubled between 1977 and 1990 to 1.2

cases per 100,000 people and has remained near that level. But several

specialists say they suspect the incidence is rising.

Explanations for the persistence of the disease vary. Some experts believe

it is primarily a result of heavy occupational exposure from the 1960s

through the early 1970s. Others believe that Americans are continuing to be

exposed to asbestos released from aging building materials and from natural

outcroppings of the mineral.

Most mesothelioma victims die within 18 months of diagnosis. Mortality is

swift not because the cancer is fast-growing but because it usually is far

advanced by the time it is detected.

It spreads like a thin sheet, rather than forming the lumps associated with

other cancers. Its host is the mesothelium, the slick, thin membrane that

lines the chest wall, abdominal cavity, lungs and other organs. Because of

its stealthy advance, by the time a patient notices a shortness of breath,

mesothelioma already may have encased a lung like a rind.

Girion is a reporter for the Los Angeles Times, a Tribune Publishing

company.

Copyright © 2002, Orlando Sentinel