Doctors and public health researchers are sounding the alarm about a painful disease that is no longer rare, warning that it is now between 50 and 100 times more common in some places than it used to be. The surge is closely tied to rising temperatures and shifting ecosystems, and it is already reshaping how health systems think about risk, prevention, and long-term care.
As scientists trace the trend, they are also uncovering deeper links between this illness, climate change, and the chemical pollution that surrounds daily life, with some experts describing one class of contaminants as responsible for almost all types of the condition. I want to unpack what that means in practice, why the numbers are moving so fast, and how ordinary choices about heat, water, and household products now intersect with a disease that used to sit on the margins of medical concern.
How a once-rare disease became 50–100 times more common
The most jarring shift is the scale of the increase. When Nov researchers describe a disease as 50 to 100 times more common than it was in earlier decades, they are not talking about a subtle uptick that only shows up in spreadsheets. They are describing a transformation in how often doctors see the condition in clinics and hospitals, and how likely it is that a person who might once have gone a lifetime without encountering it now knows someone who has. That kind of jump, by a factor of 50 or even 100, is the sort of change that forces health systems to rethink everything from training to triage.
In their recent work, Nov researchers connect this surge to a broader pattern of environmental disruption, arguing that the disease is no longer confined to narrow geographic bands or specific seasons. Instead, they describe a condition that is spreading into new regions and affecting people who would not have been considered at risk a generation ago, a shift they link to both rising temperatures and the spread of persistent pollutants. One research team goes so far as to say that a class of industrial compounds often called forever chemicals is now responsible for almost all types of the disease, a claim that underscores how tightly biology and chemistry have become intertwined.
Why climate change is supercharging a painful condition
Behind the raw numbers sits a simple physical reality: a hotter world changes how diseases behave. As average temperatures climb, the organisms and processes that drive this particular illness gain more opportunities to spread, reproduce, or trigger inflammation in human bodies. What might once have been a seasonal spike is turning into a longer, more intense window of risk, and that shift is especially punishing for people whose work or housing keeps them in close contact with heat, standing water, or outdoor environments that are changing faster than local infrastructure.
Health officials tracking the trend have zeroed in on temperature as a central driver. In one major analysis, lead author Marissa Childs, an assistant professor who studies the intersection of climate and disease, put it bluntly: “The effects of temperature were much larger than I expected.” That conclusion, drawn from data that already included a significant death toll, reflects how quickly the risk profile has changed as heat waves become more frequent and intense. The same research warns that this painful disease is on track to become a major public health burden as warming continues, a trajectory that has prompted officials to issue new alerts about the dangers of prolonged exposure to high temperatures and the environments that foster infection, as detailed in recent warnings from health officials.
The role of forever chemicals inside the body
Climate is only part of the story. Inside the body, a different kind of threat is quietly shaping who gets sick and how severe their disease becomes. Forever chemicals, a broad group of synthetic compounds that do not break down easily in the environment or in human tissue, have seeped into drinking water, household products, and even the dust that settles on furniture. Over time, these chemicals accumulate in blood and organs, where they can interfere with immune responses, hormone signaling, and the delicate balance that keeps inflammation in check.
Nov researchers examining this disease have started to connect those internal exposures to the external surge in cases. In a recent paper, they argue that the same forever chemicals that linger in nonstick cookware, stain-resistant fabrics, and some firefighting foams are not just background noise in the body but active players in the disease process. Their conclusion is stark: these compounds are now considered responsible for almost all types of the condition, a finding that reframes the illness as a product of long-term chemical saturation as much as of infection or injury. That perspective, laid out in detail by Nov researchers who describe the disease as 50 to 100 times more common than before, has pushed regulators and clinicians to look more closely at how everyday products contribute to chronic pain and disability, a link that is central to the analysis shared by climate-focused researchers.
From lab findings to real-world patients
For patients, the science behind these trends shows up as something far more concrete: more frequent diagnoses, longer waits for specialist care, and a growing sense that the rules have changed. People who might once have been told that their symptoms were rare or unusual are now finding themselves in crowded waiting rooms with others describing the same burning, throbbing, or stabbing pain. In many clinics, doctors are updating their intake questions to ask more about heat exposure, water contact, and potential chemical exposures at home or work, because those details now matter more than ever in predicting who will develop the disease and how it will progress.
As I talk to clinicians, a pattern emerges. They describe younger patients presenting with severe symptoms, workers in outdoor jobs reporting flare-ups after heat waves, and families in industrial or agricultural regions grappling with clusters of cases that do not fit older textbooks. These real-world stories echo the data that Nov researchers have compiled, which show the disease becoming 50 to 100 times more common in some settings and increasingly linked to both rising temperatures and the presence of forever chemicals that are responsible for almost all types of the condition. The convergence of lab findings and bedside observations is what has convinced many doctors that they are not just seeing better detection, but a genuine shift in the underlying risk landscape.
Why health officials are treating this as a climate signal
Public health agencies are not just counting cases, they are reading them as a signal about how climate change is reshaping disease patterns. When a painful condition spreads into new regions at the same time that heat records are being broken, it becomes harder to treat those developments as coincidence. Instead, officials are starting to treat the disease as a kind of early warning system, a visible marker of how rising temperatures and altered rainfall are changing the biology of infection, inflammation, and chronic pain.
That perspective is clear in the work led by assistant professor Marissa Childs, who has emphasized that the effects of temperature on this disease were much larger than she expected, even after accounting for other factors. Her team’s findings, which document a growing death toll alongside the spread of the illness, have prompted health officials to warn that the disease will become a major burden in the years ahead if warming continues on its current path. Those warnings are not abstract. They translate into new guidance for hospitals to prepare for surges during heat waves, for local governments to invest in cooling centers and drainage improvements, and for workers in high-risk jobs to receive better protection and education about the conditions that foster infection, as reflected in the detailed climate and disease analysis shared in the recent public health warning.
Everyday exposure: how homes and jobs feed the risk
While climate and chemistry can sound abstract, the pathways that connect them to this disease run straight through ordinary routines. At home, forever chemicals show up in items that promise convenience or durability, from water-repellent jackets to grease-resistant fast-food wrappers. Over years of use, tiny amounts of these compounds can leach into drinking water, indoor air, and household dust, where they are inhaled or ingested without anyone noticing. For people whose immune systems are already stressed by heat, infection, or other illnesses, that steady drip of exposure can tilt the balance toward chronic inflammation and pain.
On the job, the risks can be even more concentrated. Firefighters who train with foam that contains forever chemicals, factory workers who handle treated textiles, and agricultural laborers who spend long days in rising heat all sit at the intersection of the trends Nov researchers are tracking. They face both higher chemical loads and more intense temperature swings, a combination that helps explain why the disease is now 50 to 100 times more common in some occupational groups than in the past. When researchers describe forever chemicals as responsible for almost all types of the condition, they are not just talking about obscure lab exposures, they are pointing to the cumulative effect of countless small contacts in homes, workplaces, and neighborhoods that were never designed with long-term health in mind, a reality that has become a central theme in the work of Nov researchers.
What doctors are changing in response
Faced with a disease that is spreading faster and hitting harder, doctors are adjusting both how they diagnose and how they counsel patients. In many clinics, physicians now ask more detailed questions about heat exposure, travel to warmer regions, and contact with potentially contaminated water, because those clues can help distinguish this condition from other causes of pain. They are also more likely to order tests or imaging earlier in the course of symptoms, on the assumption that waiting for classic textbook signs may mean missing the window to prevent severe complications.
Prevention advice is evolving as well. Instead of focusing solely on medications or procedures, clinicians are starting to talk more about environmental risk reduction, from staying hydrated and seeking shade during extreme heat to using water filters that can reduce some forever chemicals. While no single step can erase the risk created by a world where the disease is 50 to 100 times more common than before, the goal is to chip away at the factors that are within reach. That shift in tone reflects the growing consensus among Nov researchers that forever chemicals are responsible for almost all types of the condition and that rising temperatures, as highlighted by Marissa Childs and other experts, are amplifying its reach in ways that demand both medical and environmental responses.
How individuals can navigate a shifting risk landscape
For individuals trying to make sense of these warnings, the challenge is to find a path between alarm and paralysis. It is not realistic to avoid every source of heat or every product that might contain forever chemicals, especially for people whose jobs or budgets limit their choices. What is realistic is to focus on the highest leverage points: reducing unnecessary exposure where possible, recognizing early symptoms, and pushing for broader changes that make healthy choices easier rather than harder.
In practical terms, that can mean simple steps like paying attention to local heat advisories, using cooling centers or air-conditioned public spaces during extreme heat, and avoiding wading in floodwaters or stagnant pools that may harbor pathogens linked to the disease. At home, it can mean checking whether a community water system has reported contamination, using certified filters when needed, and being cautious about nonstick or stain-resistant products that are not clearly labeled as free of certain forever chemicals. None of these actions can fully offset the fact that the disease is now 50 to 100 times more common in some regions, or that forever chemicals are considered responsible for almost all types of the condition, but they can help tilt the odds in a safer direction while policymakers and industry grapple with the larger structural changes that the science now demands.
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