Support Chanda Masta's Battle Against Lung Cancer

My name is Chanda Masta. I was a teenage mother, born to teenage parents. I had a very hard upbringing in the trailer park, where I raised my two brothers while my young parents worked and partied. I raised three kids on my own as a young mother. I battled alcoholism in my 20s and opioid addiction in my 30s, an addiction handed to me by my doctor in the early 2000s. I finally had enough of Big Pharma and found a natural way to heal my addiction through an herbal tea called Kratom. I know there’s a lot of misinformation about Kratom, but it saved my life and gave me a chance to become a better person and give back to the community that supported me in so many ways.

In 2015, sober, I finally took a good look at the world we are leaving our kids and knew we had to fight back. I joined Bernie Sanders’ team, as he was the only one talking about change in 2016. I joined the local Democrats and became an elected PCO for eight years. I traveled the country fighting for change that never happened. After seeing the Democrats' true colors, I chose to advocate for Universal Healthcare, clean food, air, and water, and fought to free Assange. I’ve been to the prisons at the border where they take children from their mothers and lock them up for seeking a better life.

Because of your support and encouragement, I fought harder, leading me to join an independent news network called Roar Media in 2019. This has led me to some amazing people. I got to interview Chris Hedges and both Julian Assange’s father and brother, just to name a few. You can find my show on most platforms, called The Trailer Park Pundit, at 10 a.m. PST, along with my longest-running show that I do with one of my best friends called Beauty & The Boomer, which airs every Saturday night at 7 p.m. PST. We don’t make much money doing what we do and have suffered at the hands of censorship that you’d expect from a dictatorship—but that’s the USA now. It’s been far worse under the Democrats.

I had been having hot flashes ever since I had COVID in 2020 and asked a telehealth doctor, who had only seen me for five minutes from another state, to give me Hormone Replacement Therapy. I was always told by my mother and grandmother that I couldn’t take it because of the cancer that runs in our family. I didn’t listen; I trusted the doctors. I had a total of three different doctors see me for it over the last three years, all upping my estrogen until, on July 9th, I was given the estrogen patch. I immediately started having issues. I was sick the first week, and both my legs swelled up so badly I went to the ER. They assured me I was fine and gave me water pills. I followed up with my PCP three days later, who again told me I was fine. Within one month, I had stopped using the patch and wasn’t getting better. On August 11th, I started vomiting and dry heaving. After four days of lying in bed sick, I went back to the ER, and they immediately put me in the ICU—I was on my way to renal failure. My sodium levels were well below normal, but at the time, I didn’t know what that meant. They brought my levels up too fast the first day, causing me to have many problems in the ICU. Finally, they caught part of a hilar mass in my right lung. I sent the scans to my very good friend who’s a doctor, and my phone rang instantly. She told me it wasn’t good; she knew what she was looking at. It took me about a week to wrap my mind around what she told me and what the other doctors were not saying.

I have small cell lung cancer. Aggressive. I underwent a biopsy on Thursday to confirm. The survival rate for this cancer is very low—only 7% make it five years, and most only have 2-4 months to live after finding out. Of course, the Western medicine doctors want to blast me with chemo and radiation. All my holistic friends want me to go for stem cell treatment in Mexico and try other ways. But it’s all going to cost money, not to mention I’m too sick to work. I had been taking care of my boyfriend’s mother for the last nine years; she took care of the bills for me, and I took care of her basic needs. But I had to put her in a memory care facility on August 5th after six months of her slipping into dementia (please see her GFM). She would wander and get lost. Ten days after moving her out, I found out how sick I was on August 15th. I ended up in the ICU for a week, with massive doctor appointments to follow.

I applied for help from the state this week, but they have to prove I’m sick, and that won’t happen until after my rent is due. I have the worst insurance a poor person can have in America, but they have covered all my treatments so far and my hospital stay. I have no running vehicle and have been on foot for the last year, having to walk a mile to the bus one way to get even close to a doctor’s office. A very dear friend lent me a car to help while I go through this. I’m scared to death. I just turned 50 in May, and I fell apart the next day. This has been the hardest year of all my 50 years on this planet. I have three grandbabies I adore; the oldest is my closest, and I’m heartbroken to leave her so soon. Teenagers don’t understand death; I didn’t when I lost my grandparents young. I appreciate everyone who sent me well wishes and donations. The information you send to me on cancer never goes overlooked. I’m still trying to keep up with my hobby of live streaming to you from the trailer park and will do my best until I can no longer be on air, as I feel how sick my body really is. I don’t sleep much these days. I suspect it’s in more places than just my lungs and will have a PET scan to tell me everywhere it is. My message of hope is to fight the good fight every moment because that’s all we’ve got. We have to make this world a better place, or 80% of our children and grandchildren will be killed by super cancers by 2050, so fight like your lives depend on it—because they do! And no, I didn’t take the vaccine, because that’s the first question people ask. I don’t judge if you did, because so many were forced. But please question a profit-driven healthcare system. I’m thankful I’ve had the amazing community of activists worldwide lifting my voice and listening to what I had to say over the last ten years of my life. I’m just a poor girl from a trailer park, and I really need your help. Thanks for reading and sharing.