The Dying Man Volunteering in All 50 States — and Why No One’s Paying Attention

Humanity and algorithms make me angry.

Sometimes when I’m this angry, I don’t know what to do with it, so I write.

Poorly, perhaps, but I do it because it’s the only productive way that I know to work through the anger, grief, disappointment, fear for, and frustration with humanity. And the algorithms, I guess, but we are the algorithms, I suppose.

I came across a man on Instagram a couple of days ago on an Upworthy post. His name is Doug Ruch. He’s young, I’m not sure exactly how old, but I would guess late forties, early 50s.

Doug was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2021. After several years of fighting it, he discovered in March of 2025 that the cancer is terminal and he was given 12–18 months to live.

Doug isn’t alone. According to the American Cancer Society (ACS), in 2025 there will be over 2M new cancer diagnoses. Most of us, outside of our circles of friends, family, and spheres of influence, will never know most of the people affected.

But Doug, and I’m sure many others that I haven’t stumbled upon yet, we do have the chance to know because Doug, rather than lying down to die before he dies, is using the time he has left to serve others. Doug is on a 50-state volunteer tour and working towards “starting the Dying to Serve Nonprofit to inspire and advocate for micro volunteerism (3–4 hours a month).”

So why am I angry? Glad you asked.

Doug has been on this campaign since March. He has been featured in:

Man Diagnosed with Terminal Cancer Decides to Volunteer in Every State

Man dying of cancer has wish to volunteer across every state in U.S.

Dying US man uses his last months for community service in all 50 states | US news | The Guardian

Man with terminal cancer aims to volunteer in every state — The Washington Post

Doug Ruch’s dying wish is to help people by volunteering in all 50 states : NPR

‘The hardest part was telling people that I love’

Man with terminal cancer aims to spend his remaining time volunteering in every U.S. state | CBC Radio

Doug Ruch: Terminally ill cancer patient spends his remaining months traveling to volunteer in all 50 states — ABC7 San Francisco

Yet, it was May 20 before I happened to stumble upon his story on an Upworthy post on Instagram. Now, you might be saying, “Leigh, if you’d pay attention to the news, you might have seen him earlier.” You would be correct, but that’s also beside the point. As of the time I’m writing this, Doug’s GoFundMe has raised only $93,274 of his $110,000 goal.

MONEY HE IS RAISING TO SPEND THE FINAL DAYS OF HIS LIFE DEDICATED TO HELPING OTHERS.

Yet, just a few weeks ago, some hooker raised something like $500,000 in just a few days to defend her “right” to bully and harass an autistic child of color in a park.

Sit with that for a minute.

Are you angry? Disgusted? Terrified that this is the world we live in?

Just me? It feels that way sometimes.

And I know. I know I’m naïve. I know I’m not alone in these feelings. I know I’ve been the person who didn’t pay attention, didn’t donate, didn’t act beyond the “aww, what a touching story.” I have been that person, and I’m disappointed in that version of me.

Here’s the part that really kicks me in the gut: this isn’t even about Doug.

Not really.

It’s about what the algorithms say we should care about. It’s about what our attention gravitates toward. It’s about the fact that virality doesn’t measure value, it measures spectacle.

Because if Doug had jumped out of a plane in every state or shaved his head in a bikini on a livestream while volunteering, maybe then he’d have cracked six figures by now. Maybe then the GoFundMe would be fully funded, and then some. But his story? A quiet, earnest man dying with dignity and purpose? That doesn’t “perform” well unless it’s packaged like a Mr. Beast stunt or turned into trauma-porn with a TikTok-friendly hook and a swelling violin track.

And no shade to Mr. Beast, by the way. He’s figured out how to hack the system…to get people to pay attention, to care, to click. But what does it say about us that someone has to give away a car or cry on cue for our empathy to activate? What does it say about the system that rewards spectacle over service? That amplifies cruelty because conflict gets more engagement?

That’s why I’m angry. Not just because Doug deserves better, but because we all do.

We deserve a world where goodness doesn’t have to fight this hard to be seen.

We deserve a humanity that recognizes the value of a life before it becomes content.

Doug is not an algorithm. He’s not a trending topic. He’s a human being with a terminal diagnosis, choosing to spend his final months in service instead of sorrow. And the fact that he still has to campaign to make that happen? It says a lot more about us than it does about him.

We keep saying “be kind” in captions and bios and bumper stickers, but kindness, real kindness, is inconvenient. It’s uncomfortable. It costs time and money and attention. And if it doesn’t come with a dopamine hit or a viral moment, it gets ignored.

So yeah. I’m writing.

Not because I think this post will change the world.

But because I hope maybe it changes something in you.

And I’m still angry. Part of me hopes I stay angry so that I don’t forget about Doug. And people like Doug. And people.

Because I don’t want to be part of a culture that rewards cruelty and forgets people like Doug.

Not anymore.

I’ve posted this today on Medium and Substack and a reel on Instagram, but I’m also adding here to MY site, that I own, that will hopefully serve as a daily reminder to me of the anger that I’m feeling today.

Perhaps it’s because I’m in the middle of writing a piece about my father, who passed away at 55, that I hope to have ready by his deathiversary, or perhaps it’s my anger at myself for wasting so much of my life not doing more for others.

Maybe it’s because I’m not in a position to do anything beyond donating a few bucks, being angry, and writing.

Heck, maybe it’s all the stress from these life transitions we’re going through, or maybe it’s just my hormones. I don’t know, but I’m angry about humanity today, and writing helps.

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