Hi. I'm Frankie — Kat's partner. She knows I wrote this, and she helped me think through what to say. If you know Kat at all, you know that letting me post this on her behalf was not a small thing for her to agree to. She is one of the most self-sufficient, show-up-for-everyone-else people I have ever known. Asking for help is not in her nature. It's not really in mine either. But here we are, and I want to explain why.

A little about Kat.

Kat has been a hairstylist for over 20 years. It is not just her job — it is genuinely who she is. She has spent two decades building her clientele one relationship at a time, showing up every single day, and earning everything she has entirely on her own terms. What that also means is that she has no employer-provided health insurance, no paid sick days, and no short-term disability coverage. When she can't work, she doesn't get paid. That reality has never mattered more than it does right now.

What happened — the short version.

On March 23rd, 2026, Kat had her second spinal surgery in 15 months. This followed months of worsening symptoms, a referral system that wasn't communicating, appointments scheduled months out, and Kat doing everything right — updating her MyChart, advocating for herself, continuing to work through increasing pain using a stool at her station — until March 18th, when she felt a pop in her back mid-shift and couldn't get up. Her sister rushed her to the ER, she was admitted, and after finally reaching her surgeon directly, both of her neurosurgeons agreed that surgery was the right call.

She had a laminectomy to address bone spurs on a separate vertebra and a second discectomy on the same disc from her 2024 surgery. She is home. She is recovering. She is going to be okay.

Here is what people don't know yet — and why I'm asking.

The surgery is not why I created this campaign. Kat has been keeping everyone updated on that herself, and your love and support through all of it has meant everything to both of us. What most people don't know is what happened on the financial side of all of this — and the timing of it is genuinely brutal.

On February 23, I was informed that the temp-contract I was working under would end on March 13. Leadership had made the decision to close out that phase of the project, and no new cohort had been planned or approved at that time. As a result, I transitioned from employed to unemployed just two weeks before Kat’s surgery. I have enough in savings to cover my own monthly obligations for the next couple of months, but not enough to support both of us during this recovery period.

Kat and I have been together for almost 11 years — and I know, I know, when am I going to make it official — and in that entire time, we have never found ourselves in a situation we couldn't get through on our own. We are a two-income household, and we have always operated that way. Right now we are a zero-income household, and the bills do not care.

I am doing everything I can on my end. I'm actively looking for new work and in the meantime liquidating a good chunk of my antique and oddities collection to put toward what I can. My job right now, these first critical weeks, is being Kat's caregiver — which I don't say for sympathy, just to be honest about why I can't immediately solve this myself.

What this campaign is for — specifically.

This campaign covers approximately two months of Kat's core monthly obligations — her car payment, car insurance, medical insurance, utilities, groceries, prescriptions, and the copays for physical therapy once her surgeon clears her at her two-week follow-up. It is not a round number we picked for comfort. It is the actual math of what she needs to get from now to returning to work part-time in mid-May and full-time by the end of May. This campaign is entirely focused on Kat's expenses. Not mine. Hers.

What we're asking — and what we want to be clear about.

We know what everything costs right now. Groceries, gas, insurance, rent — we are not living in a bubble about what people are dealing with. The last thing either of us wants is for someone who is already stretched thin to feel any pressure reading this.

If you're in a position to give something — even the cost of a coffee or a skipped Starbucks run — it genuinely adds up and it genuinely matters.

If you're not in a position to give right now, please share this. Text it to someone who knows Kat. Post it. Forward it. A share costs nothing and it puts this in front of people who might be able to help. That is not a throwaway line — we really mean it.

And if all you can do is send Kat a message saying you're thinking about her while she's parked on the couch in recovery mode, that matters too. More than you know.

One last thing.

Kat has spent 20 years taking care of people. Her clients, her friends, the people in her life who needed someone in their corner. She doesn't keep score. She would be embarrassed by how much I just said about her.

She got knocked down twice by something completely outside of her control, and she deserves the chance to heal without the financial weight of all of this pressing down on her at the same time.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for anything you're able to do. And thank you for being the kind of people who make asking for help feel a little less impossible.

— Frankie