My name is Tina Kim Noble. I live in Boise, Idaho. I am filing this comment so the Commission has a human…

My name is Tina Kim Noble. I live in Boise, Idaho. I am filing this comment so the Commission has a human record, not only paper studies, when it finally answers the D.C. Circuit’s 2021 order to explain whether 1996 radiofrequency limits protect people from long-term exposure. Bob was my partner. As a young adult he was a ham radio operator. He and his friend spent long hours next to towers and transmitters. He believed that early, close work beside the towers was connected to what killed him. I can tell you what happened to him, how fast it took him, and how it feels for someone who lost the love of her life. He called me right after walking on the stair climber at Fort Boise. He had tried to speak and could not. A few days later we were together in the afternoon. He looked at me and tried to say that he loved me. He mouthed the words. Only drool came out. We hoped it was a TIA. It was a tumor. They said the best surgeon was in Seattle. We went immediately. The doctor came in and told us it was inoperable. Grade 4 glioblastoma. Bob and his sister, who had flown in from Florida, sat and listened. I collapsed in tears. We got home from Seattle on September 10, 2001. On the morning of the 11th I walked into the living room and saw the plane hit the tower. Watching it fall, I thought the world was ending. It was all too much to take in at once. The doctor gave him four months without chemo and radiation, nine months with them. He started Temodar and radiation. For months we talked about miracles. He took steroids to keep the swelling down. The steroids changed him. He became paranoid and angry. He thought I was having an affair. I asked him when I would have had time—raising three children, working, and driving him to radiation. When he needed round-the-clock care, his sister came to Boise. I kept calling and visiting. He lost all speech. One day I knew something had changed. I called her. He had stopped the chemo. Shortly after he had a seizure, then a stroke, and then he died. Before he died I got to say goodbye. He could not speak, but the love was back in his eyes. He patted the bed for me to sit beside him a while. I told him how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. Cody and Jenny (my two oldest) said goodbye too. Cody called him “brittle-bones Bob” because Bob was quite a bit older than I am. Bob loved that. We all loved him. I still do. Twenty-five years later I can finally feel the size of that loss. The Commission’s 1996 limits treat the body as safe if it does not heat. They were not written for a man who worked in a building next to towers for years, or for a family that later watched speech, personality, and then life leave in a few months. The court already told you to address long-term exposure, people close to sources, and whether those old testing rules still protect anyone. Please do that work. Do not close this record with another sentence that a certified device is fine if it does not cook tissue. I am asking you to stop pretending a 1996 thermal number is a complete answer to a grade 4 glioblastoma in a man who spent heavy time next to transmitters. Respectfully submitted, Tina K Noble, 208-629-9415