Support Ruda Lee's Fight Against Cancer

Hello! My name is Ruda Lee Holder and I’m 53 years old and yes, it’s true—I have Stage 4 Bile Duct Cancer. I know, right? The odds of getting this are about one in a thousand, so naturally, I’m the lucky one. Because why not? It’s just my luck to get a disease that sounds like a bad punchline at a medical conference- just wait for the medical name of it! Anyway- I’m not just accepting what’s coming, I’m still fighting. Because who doesn’t want to go down swinging?

Now, let’s talk about the joys of dealing with cancer and all that comes with it. The cost of chemo is ridiculous—a price tag that makes you wonder if the hospital is secretly selling stock in unicorns. I went from working overtime daily and living life, to finding myself on long-term disability. Which, FYI, is a financial catastrophe. They’ve cut my pay and even tried to snatch away my life insurance. Oh, and don’t even get me started on COBRA—basically the healthcare equivalent of being asked to pay for a lifeboat when you're sinking.

Here’s a nugget of wisdom for you: The secret to life seems to be dying quickly, before they take everything away. Sad, but it’s the reality of modern healthcare.

But enough of the doom and gloom—the bills are piling up faster than my energy is draining. I’m weakening by the day, and while I’ve still got some fight left in me, I know I won’t be independent forever. I have so much left to take care of before I go, and that’s where you come in. I’m reaching out for help. If you can spare anything—whether it's a donation, some great vibes, or a prayer—I’d be beyond grateful.

It’s not easy asking for help, but right now, I don’t have much choice. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for even taking the time to read this!! If you want the full story, please keep reading!

Ruda Lee’s Story :

It was an ordinary April afternoon when I went in for my annual mammogram and lung screening, fully expecting the results to be the same as always—clear and uneventful. But this time, there was a shadow on the screening, something new. It led to more tests, and within a week, I got the call. The news was unexpected, but it wasn’t yet devastating: I had cancer, but it was early and curable, or so we thought.

That all changed when I met with my oncologist. She explained to me that I had stage four cancer, specifically unresectable intrahepatic cholangiocarcinoma—bile duct cancer. I could hardly process what I was hearing. It’s hard to imagine that something so serious could be part of your life story.

From there, things moved quickly. I had to break the news to my family and try to come to terms with what I’d just learned. I went on short-term disability, then long-term, and now I rely on Social Security. It’s humbling, to say the least. After working my entire life, the transition to a fixed income is tough, and it’s hard to reconcile the reality of cancer with the life I thought I still had ahead of me.

Before this, I had always thought stage four cancer was for people who were visibly ill, not for someone like me. Sure, I *felt* fine, or at least I thought I did. But now, every two weeks, I sit for eight hours receiving chemotherapy. My Fridays, once my favorite day of the week, have turned into what I call “Saddays.”

I even cut my hair early, anticipating it would fall out, but it never did. Lesson learned: don’t rush into things—sometimes, it’s better to wait and see. One thing I couldn’t avoid, though, were the steroids. The weight gain has been hard to handle. It’s not about vanity; it’s about losing the version of myself I worked so hard to maintain over the years. I want that old, healthy me back, but deep down, I know that version may never return.

The hardest thing to swallow is the time I’ve been given. My oncologist estimated I had about 18 months with treatment and maybe six without. Now, I’m down to 10 months. It’s terrifying to put those numbers in writing, but it’s the reality I face. What haunts me the most isn’t the physical toll—it’s the thought of leaving my loved ones behind, unpaid bills, and dreams I thought I had time to chase. I’ve been working since I was 15, always taking care of myself, and now I find myself in a position where I need help. Asking for it is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but the alternative—losing everything I’ve worked for—is even worse.

Please, if you’re reading this, take your screenings seriously. It’s easy to think you’re invincible, but the truth is, early detection makes all the difference. If you feel something’s wrong, don’t ignore it—speak up. If you’re not happy with your doctor, get a second opinion.

Although my diagnosis is terminal, I’ve been given the gift of more time with my family. We recently had a reunion—40 of us under one roof—and it was an absolute blast. My family is amazing, as you can see in the slideshow and I love them more than words can express. I’ll miss so many future moments with them, but knowing I have more time now means the world to me.

Without that early diagnosis, I would have never known until it was too late. It gave me the chance to prepare, to spend my remaining time wisely, and to make the most of every moment. So, please, get those screenings, stay on top of your health, and cherish your loved ones. You never know how much time you really have.

All my gratitude,

Ruda Lee Holder