Today marks a year since Ella’s cancer relapse, yet she remains steadfast and hopeful. For me, however, the weight of those memories feels suffocating. One year ago, our lives were shattered as we faced the unthinkable.
We had just received acceptance for a home in Indiana, planning to escape the clutches of cancer and the Santa Susana Field Lab, which we believe is responsible for our health crises. Our dream was to start anew in a safer environment. But that morning took a devastating turn when Ella woke up with excruciating arm pain, resembling a fracture. We rushed her to the hospital, and my maternal instincts were confirmed by the sorrowful look in the nurse’s eyes. Ella had relapsed with PH+ leukemia, her second battle against this rare and aggressive form of cancer. We immediately canceled our plans to move, understanding that her best chance for survival lay with the local children’s hospital.
Her medical team didn’t share her survival rate, likely to protect our fragile hope. This journey was far more grueling than the first; we spent over four months in the hospital while she underwent a bone marrow transplant. The intense chemotherapy and full-body radiation she received aimed to eradicate both the cancer and her bone marrow, leaving her in agony with mouth ulcers that made eating and drinking nearly impossible. Ella, once full of life, was reduced to a shadow of herself—unable to walk, bathe, or even dress. The constant nausea and pain led to morphine dependence, yet on days when the medication failed, her suffering was palpable. Isolated in her hospital room, she longed for her friends, who could not visit.
She was old enough to ask the hardest questions: “Will I die? Did I do something wrong?” Those inquiries pierced my heart. My greatest fear arose one day when she received her shots in silence, not a single tear shed. I feared she had surrendered her will to live. Thankfully, she fought on, and by a miracle, she survived.
An investigative report by NBC News 4 in Los Angeles revealed the disturbing history of the Santa Susana Field Lab. For decades, scientists mishandled radioactive materials and chemicals, leaving a toxic legacy for surrounding communities. Once a remote facility, the area now houses over half a million residents, many within just two miles of the site.
The lab experienced a partial nuclear meltdown in 1959, and over the years, numerous chemical spills and radioactive releases occurred, with no containment structures in place. Both NASA and the Department of Energy have lagged in their cleanup efforts, while Boeing, which controls a significant portion of the site, resists stricter cleanup mandates.
As long as the Santa Susana Field Lab remains polluted with hazardous waste, more children will inevitably face cancer—an injustice that remains largely unknown to the public. We were unaware of its dangers when we moved here, just five miles away. After Ella’s diagnosis, I discovered that 50 other children in our community were also battling cancer, and I suspect the true number is much higher.
With multiple radioactive incidents and extensive cover-ups, our community was promised a complete cleanup by 2017, yet no progress has been made. This tragedy boils down to financial interests, and our children are the ones paying the price.
Some will survive, like Ella, while others, such as our friends Sam and Lily, may not. The reality of this disparity shatters me. I ache for every child suffering, as each one reminds me of Ella. My heart breaks for the friends she has lost and the uncertainty that cancer brings—this relentless monster shows no mercy, disregarding parental prayers.
I grieve that powerful entities like NASA and Boeing prioritized profits over the lives of children like Ella. The intensity of this heartache is overwhelming; there are days when I cry until I can’t breathe. I just want to scream: “Why didn’t they protect her? She’s just a child! Why won’t they safeguard our kids?”
In the midst of this turmoil, I’m striving to find hope again. Leaning on my husband, family, and friends, I attend therapy and support groups. Still, the weight of grief feels unbearable. I choose to focus on the joy my children bring, embracing each moment and recognizing that hardship can lead to peace—even if it means continuing to fight for the cleanup of the Santa Susana Field Lab, despite the pain it revives.
I founded Parents vs. SSFL after connecting with other families at the hospital who were also neighbors. This grassroots group advocates for the cleanup of radioactive and chemical contamination at the Santa Susana Field Lab, demanding compliance with agreements made in 2010. We have gained support from organizations like Physicians for Social Responsibility-Los Angeles and the Rocketdyne Cleanup Coalition, along with local government officials. Our petition has gathered hundreds of thousands of signatures, all calling for urgent action to clean the site.
If I can do anything to prevent another child from suffering as Ella has, I will find the courage to act. Today, on the anniversary of her relapse, I commit to this fight.
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” ~Reinhold Niebuhr
Summary:
In a heartfelt reflection, Laura Thompson shares the harrowing experience of her daughter Ella’s battle with cancer, caused by the contamination of the Santa Susana Field Lab. As the anniversary of Ella’s relapse approaches, Laura confronts the pain of memories and the ongoing fight for cleanup, advocating for the safety of children in their community.
Keyphrase: Santa Susana Field Lab contamination
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