8/10 URGENT update — Donations Needed‼️

Tuesday was the final day to pay our rent before it’s officially marked late. We weren’t able to cover rent in time— not even close — and now the clock’s ticking on added daily late fees & penalties. Our rent payment is now days late. Now we’ve already received a notice that late fees and daily penalties are starting immediately. Our WiFi bill is also due, our utilities bill is just days from its due date, and our $280.34 vet bill for ‍⬛DG’s surgery & full initial vetting remains unpaid — meaning none of my kitties can be seen until that’s taken care of.

Thank you so much to those who have donated — it’s helped us get closer, and we truly appreciate it. Right now we’re still only at about 20% of what we urgently need to cover this month’s rent and bills. I’m doing everything I can from where I am: recovering, in a wheelchair, non-weight bearing, no vehicle, unable to drive or work. It’s just me and my cats who depend on me, with no outside help or income to fall back on.

If you've been thinking about helping - NOW is when it matters most. Your support

today could be the difference between keeping our home stable or falling deeper into a situation we're already struggling to manage.

Even beyond rent, the reality is — things still come up. Cat essentials, day to day expenses, and vet costs we can't ignore when something urgent happens. Just the other night, one of my cats, Shaky, my munchkin dwarf wobbly kitty started struggling to keep her left eye open while watching me cook. I noticed it immediately - I always do. But for the first time, I had to just... wait — because I can't afford to take her in right now. And that breaks me.

While our GoFundMe is still active and truly important for helping us reach our overall goal, some of our needs - like rent, Wifi, and vet-related costs we're already facing — are more immediate and can't wait. If you're able to send support through instant options like Lelle, Cash App, Venmo, or PayPal, It would make a huge difference today. That said, we're so grateful for support in any form.

Every bit helps, and it means more than we can put into words.

We don't take your help for granted - not ever. Your support, in any form, helps us breathe a little easier. Whether it's an item from our Amazon wishlist, a donation to our GoFundMe ( http://gofund.me/ff97afb3 ),

or even just REPOSTING & SHARING this post— it all matters.

Thank you for showing up for us. Please REPOST & share this!!! God bless each and every single one of you!

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June 30, 2025 UPDATE: 

Hi friends, thank you so much for your support thus far— it truly means everything to our little family right now. These past few weeks have been unbelievably tough. 

On June 15th, I fell and suffered a severe right ankle fracture — a comminuted fibula break where the bone shattered into three pieces. After seeing an orthopedic surgeon, I was told surgery was urgent because the break couldn’t heal on its own. On June 24th, I underwent an open reduction internal fixation (ORIF) surgery, where plates and screws were inserted to stabilize my ankle.

Before surgery, the anesthesiologist explained all the possible complications of anesthesia but reassured me, saying, “You’re young and healthy, so we likely don’t have to worry about any of that.” I’m 27 years old and it was my first surgery, as well as my first time under anesthesia, so I wasn’t prepared for what came next. But, of course, it was my luck to be one of the few who suffered complications.

During extubation in the post-anesthesia care unit (PACU), I experienced a laryngospasm — an involuntary, painful spasm of my vocal cords that temporarily blocked my airway. I literally couldn’t breathe. I woke up throwing up blood in my sputum, struggling for air, and in excruciating pain.

To make matters worse, the pain medication wasn’t working because I had taken a medication earlier that morning, around 5 AM, which completely blocked the effects of opioids. No one told me not to take it before surgery. It has a long half-life, so it stayed in my system for hours. I was screaming and sobbing in the worst pain imaginable, and the nurse told me, “I’m sorry, honey, but you took a medication that’s blocking your pain meds, so no matter how much I give you, it won’t help.” Can you imagine that moment? Screaming in agony and knowing nothing will touch the pain.

My oxygen levels dropped dangerously low — into the 70s and 80s — which is unheard of for me since I’ve never had asthma or breathing problems. They put me on oxygen and gave me an incentive spirometer to help my lungs. I struggled to reach only 250 when the goal was 1200. 

Nurses were yelling at me, “Honey, have you ever experienced shortness of breath? I need you to breathe. Don’t stop breathing.” Apparently, I was stopping my breaths at times. It was terrifying.

During this time,I was diagnosed with pulmonary edema — fluid buildup in my lungs — which made breathing even harder.

I was finally moved from PACU to the recovery room late on June 25th. I had many visitors, everyone who came to check on me — nurses, techs, even staff passing by — looked at me with concern, saying how serious my surgery was and how much my body had just gone through. Hearing that over and over again made it real. The moment really hit me: this wasn’t going to be a quick bounce-back. I wasn’t just recovering from a broken bone — I was recovering from trauma, complications, and now pneumonia. I felt defeated and scared, unsure of what the next few weeks would look like. I felt like my body had been through a war, and I was only just beginning the uphill battle of healing.

I didn’t realize how bad things really were until I was back in the recovery room. The nurses were literally babying me — they brought a bedside toilet because they didn’t want me even trying to get up and risk my operated foot accidentally touching the floor. I wasn’t allowed to move without help, and they even assisted me in the shower, which was honestly so embarrassing, but it showed me how serious my condition really was. I kept thinking, “Okay, I broke a bone — it’ll be a cast and crutches, just like you see with other people.” But no. This was different. This was major. My foot had been shattered, I had plates and screws holding it together, I couldn’t breathe, and I was in constant pain. This whole experience has been a complete wake-up call — physically, emotionally, and financially.

All I know now is… never say never — even in your 20s. I used to think stuff like this only happened later in life, or to other people. But in an instant, everything changed. If this experience has taught me anything, it’s that your whole world can flip overnight — and it doesn’t matter how young or healthy you are.

The night of June 25th, I was finally discharged — even though they originally wanted to keep me another day. But I couldn’t stop crying. I missed my cats so much, and the thought of them being home alone, not knowing what was happening, completely broke me. When I left for surgery, I told them I’d be back in just a few hours… that was the plan. I never expected to end up in the hospital overnight, fighting to breathe and dealing with complications. All I wanted at that point was to be back home with them — they’re my comfort, my children, my emotional support, and they had no idea what I was going through.

But just hours after discharge, on June 26th, I woke up gasping for air again with chest pain. My oxygen saturation was dangerously low — in the 70s and 80s — so I returned to the ER immediately. Imaging, labs, and an urgent CT scan were performed due to high concern for a pulmonary embolism. m — thankfully, no blood clot was found. Instead, I was diagnosed with bilateral pneumonia, anemia, and pulmonary infiltrates consistent with developing complications. A pulmonology consult was called due to the severity of my breathing issues and persistent oxygen desaturation, especially with minimal activity or when lying flat.

I am now on antibiotics, inhalers, and other medications. I remain non-weight-bearing and confined to a wheelchair. My surgeon says I can’t put any weight on the foot for at least 2-3 months, and then I’ll need physical therapy to relearn how to walk. I haven’t walked since June 15th.

I’m not allowed to work or drive for at least two months. If I do return to work sooner, it has to be a remote job — which I’m trying to find, but that process takes time. 

Before all this, I was already struggling to stay afloat after totaling my car in April due to a bad accident and moving into a new home, which drained my savings.

Our rent is due in just a couple of days and I don’t know how I’m going to cover it. With mounting medical bills and everyday expenses, I am feeling overwhelmed.

My cats depend on me to keep a safe, stable home — they need a roof over their heads, and right now, I desperately need help to make sure they stay cared for and protected.

I’m reaching out because I desperately need help. Please check out the GoFundMe link in my bio. Every bit helps — whether it’s a donation, sharing the link, or support via Venmo (rashelrose), CashApp ($rashelrose), or my Amazon wishlist.

Thank you so much to everyone who’s supported us — your kindness is a lifeline. We’re still nowhere near our goal, so please keep sharing and helping however you can. We’ve never been the type to ask for help, but right now, we truly need it more than ever. Please help our little family get through this difficult journey.

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Hi everyone,

This is incredibly difficult for me to share — and even harder to ask. But I’m in a situation where I don’t know what else to do. I’m doing this for my babies.

Many of you have followed me for a while and know how much my cats mean to me. Shaky, Twinkles, Lulu, Theo, Bella, Eevee, Elaina, and DG — they are not just pets, they are my family. They’ve been with me through everything. They give me purpose and unconditional love, even when the world feels heavy.

But right now, life has hit me harder than I ever expected. I had to leave an unsafe living situation because my pets were being threatened — not just emotionally, but with their actual safety. It broke me to constantly feel like they could be taken from me, used against me, or hurt. I had no choice but to move out with no safety net.

Then, not long after, I totaled my car — and in that terrifying moment, my first thought was: What would happen to my babies if I didn’t make it? That fear hasn’t left me since.

The rental car costs, emergency expenses, and housing stress have built up, and I’m drowning. I’ve sold personal items and even their supplies just to try and keep us afloat, but I’m running out of options. It’s just me supporting them — no family help, no backup — and every bit of this situation has left me emotionally and financially drained.

My kitties are the reason I keep going. They’ve pulled me out of depression more times than I can count. No one else would love or care for them like I do. And that’s what hurts the most — the fear of not being able to provide for them, to keep them safe, warm, and fed.

I’ve never asked for help like this. I’ve always been the one sharing donation posts for others — never imagining I’d be the one in this position. I’m embarrassed, but more than that, I’m scared. I’m trying everything I can. But this is time-sensitive, and I need help to make it through.

If you’re able, I’d be endlessly grateful for any donation — big or small. It would help cover critical bills, emergency expenses, and give me just a bit of breathing room while I recover from everything the last two months have brought.

If you’d rather donate directly:

CashApp: $rashelrose

Venmo: @luluthechonk

Thank you for supporting my little family, for loving my babies through the screen, and for always being here. Your kindness means more than you’ll ever know.

With love and gratitude,

Rashel