Thank you to the chair and honourable members of the committee for granting me the opportunity to speak to you today, and for your time and dedication to addressing this critical issue.
Thirty-one years ago, I was a young, married woman full of excitement and hope for my future. My husband was an aircraft engine technician for National Defence. We were expecting our first child. We had just moved into private married quarters on the base, and I had begun working as a clerk at the base convenience store, the Canex. I felt incredibly proud of the life we were building, one centred on service, community and the Canadian dream. I never imagined this dream would turn into a nightmare from which I cannot wake.
Nine months ago, a simple yet alarming question started being discussed in the building I work in: “Do you think our building is safe?” This question and the discussions that followed opened a door to truths that have been devastating to learn. I am proud to have served as a public service employee for over three decades, supporting members of the Department of National Defence. Yet, over the years, I have lived and worked in buildings, sent my children to day cares and schools, and used facilities that I now know are directly on contamination sites or within areas where contamination sites exist. Despite this, we were never told.
After moving onto the base in 1993, I began experiencing medical issues. At the time, I attributed them to the challenges of being a new mother and working hard. However, by 2001, after seven years on the base, I was diagnosed with a neurological disorder with significant neurobiological consequences. This has progressively worsened, requiring increasing medication that now affects my memory. Over the years, other warning signs emerged. In 2017, I had an emergency hysterectomy. Since this time, four other women I work with have all needed to have this procedure. Many of us were employed in the same building—building 143. Around the same time, we noticed that several colleagues, both military and civilian, were battling various cancers or autoimmune, thyroid and neurological issues.
This April, the pieces of the puzzle started coming together. After months of personal investigation, discussions and interviews, we discovered devastating patterns: over 50 deaths in a short time frame in seven buildings, and approximately 200 illnesses among those connected to our base, 15 Wing Moose Jaw. These include cancers, thyroid disorders, neurological conditions and other life-altering illnesses. These are not isolated cases. Our findings suggest a widespread issue of contamination affecting bases and military housing across Canada, impacting not only military members but also civilian employees, their families and even children.
I count myself lucky. My condition, though challenging, is somewhat manageable with medication. Many others are not as fortunate. My friend and colleague Erin Zimmerman, a 46-year-old mother of four, has been diagnosed with intracranial hypertension causing visual impairment and young-onset Parkinson's disease—a rare condition for her age that is linked to chemical exposure. Erin now works in building 143 and was previously with the Snowbirds in hangar 6. That is directly on top of an active contamination site in the federal contaminated sites inventory and where she spent one of her pregnancies. She was never informed of the risks. I think of my friend Dave Hovington, a fire inspector and devoted colleague who continues to work tirelessly despite battling cancer. I think of my own family. My pregnancies were complicated and my children were born with extremely low birth weights. My daughter now struggles with neurological and endocrine disorders, and my son faces chronic lung and gastrointestinal issues. I now wonder if these are the consequences of living and working in contaminated environments.
We have discovered that contamination exists all over our our small base where there are hangers, flight lines, fire halls, a previous school, day cares and homes. Yet, we were never informed. No one told us about the risks we were exposed to daily. My husband, who has served for over 35 years, has witnessed unsafe practices such as chemicals being disposed of improperly and without protective equipment. He now shows early signs of a neurological disorder. His colleagues, many of whom worked under similar conditions, have faced cancer, cardiac issues and other severe health problems. Some have passed away.
Through thousands of hours of research and data collection, we have uncovered a systematic failure to address these issues transparently and effectively. Those of us who have sought answers have faced skepticism, criticism and, now, retribution, but we persist, for those we have lost, for those who are suffering and for those who may yet be affected.
I ask you, why were we not given the right to know? Why are our children allowed to attend day cares in contaminated environments? Why is it acceptable to put lives at risk—military, civilian and our families'—and, most importantly, what is the cost of a human life?
We must act, not just to address the tragedies of the past, but to ensure a safer, healthier future for all Canadians.
Thank you.