Today marks the anniversary of Mia’s cancer relapse, yet she remains focused on the future. For me, however, it’s a stark reminder of a painful chapter that nearly swallowed me whole. A year ago today, our world was shattered, and I find it difficult to breathe as the memories flood back.
We had plans to escape. Our offer on a home in Indiana had just been accepted, and we were ready to leave behind the Santa Susana Field Lab—a site we believe contributed to our health issues—and start anew in a place we thought would be safe. But then Mia woke up with sharp pain in her arm, as if it were broken. We rushed her to the hospital.
I sensed something was wrong even before the doctor spoke; the look in the nurse’s eyes confirmed my worst fears. Mia had relapsed with PH+ leukemia, marking her second battle with this rare and aggressive form of cancer. We impulsively canceled our home purchase from the hospital hallway, knowing that her best chance at survival lay in our local children’s hospital, which meant our finances would now be consumed by medical bills.
Her doctors chose not to disclose her survival rate, likely to protect our fragile hope. This time around was far more grueling than her initial diagnosis. We spent over four months in the hospital while she underwent a bone marrow transplant, enduring an intense regimen of chemotherapy and full-body radiation aimed at obliterating both the cancer and her bone marrow. The pain was so severe that she developed ulcers in her mouth and lost the ability to eat, drink, or even speak. She refused ice cream, her favorite treat. The fevers, nightmares, and 11 blood transfusions were just part of her agonizing journey. She couldn’t walk, bathe, or put on her clothes. Nausea was a constant companion, and despite being on morphine, there were days when the pain still broke through. Isolated in her hospital room, she couldn’t have friends visit.
Mia was old enough to ask difficult questions: “Will I die?” and “Did I do something wrong to deserve this?” Each inquiry pierced my heart.
The day she accepted her shots without a tear or complaint terrified me; I feared she had lost her will to fight. Thankfully, she persevered, and by some miracle, she survived.
According to a report by NBC News 4 in Los Angeles, the Santa Susana Field Lab (SSFL) has a deeply troubling history. Over decades, scientists and staff conducted experiments with nuclear reactors and advanced rocket systems, resulting in years of mishandled radioactive materials and chemicals that have left a lasting toxic legacy for nearby residents. Today, more than half a million people live within a ten-mile radius of the site, with thousands closer than two miles.
The SSFL experienced a partial nuclear meltdown in 1959, followed by repeated chemical spills and the open-air burning of hazardous materials. Both NASA and the Department of Energy have fallen behind on cleanup efforts, while Boeing, which took ownership of most of the lab in 1996, has resisted stringent cleanup requirements.
As long as the Santa Susana Field Lab remains polluted with radioactive waste, more children will fall victim to cancer. Although one of America’s worst nuclear incidents, it often goes unnoticed. We were unaware of its dangers when we moved just five miles away, but after Mia joined the ranks of our community’s 50 child cancer patients, we learned more than we ever wanted to know.
For decades, the community was promised a full cleanup by 2017, yet nothing has transpired. It all boils down to financial interests, with our children paying the price. This is a heartbreaking tragedy that cannot be ignored.
I have created a self-reported map to illustrate the 50 children with cancer that I know personally, but I suspect the number is much higher. Some will survive, but others, like our friends Sophie and Ella, will not. This reality breaks my heart. The thought of more children suffering needlessly is unbearable. Each time I see another child with cancer, I only see Mia, and I grieve.
I mourn the loss of her childhood and the immense suffering she has endured—far more than most adults endure. It feels unjust that she has faced so much pain. I grieve for her friends who have passed away and for the uncertainty that looms over Mia’s future, knowing that cancer can return without warning. I grapple with the belief that NASA, Boeing, and the Department of Energy prioritized money over the safety of our children. Sometimes, the weight of this grief feels overwhelming.
I want to shout, “Why didn’t they protect her? She’s just a child! Why won’t they safeguard our kids?” I’m striving to regain my trust in God, relying heavily on my husband, family, and friends. Despite attending therapy and support groups, the memories of pain and fear continue to haunt me.
Yet I choose to hold on to hope. I find joy in the smiles of my children and their love. I commit to living one day at a time, accepting hardship as a pathway to peace—even if it means staying here in West Hills and advocating for the cleanup of the Santa Susana Field Lab, even if it stirs up my pain.
I founded Parents vs. SSFL after meeting more families at the hospital who were also my neighbors. This grassroots group unites concerned parents and residents demanding compliance with the cleanup agreements made in 2010, which require a full eradication of radioactive and chemical contamination at the Santa Susana Field Laboratory. We collaborate with other advocates, including Physicians for Social Responsibility-Los Angeles and local elected officials. Our petition has garnered hundreds of thousands of signatures, all pushing for the complete cleanup of the site.
If there’s anything I can do to prevent another child from suffering as Mia did, then on this anniversary, I vow to be courageous and to act.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
This article was originally published on August 21, 2018.
Summary
Jessica Landon reflects on her daughter Mia’s battle with cancer, which she believes is linked to the contaminated Santa Susana Field Lab. As she recounts the painful journey of Mia’s leukemia relapse and treatment, she highlights the ongoing fight for cleanup of the toxic site. Despite the heartbreak and challenges, Jessica remains committed to advocating for her community and the health of future generations.
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