Bless your heart.

Sometimes lots and lots of patience! My beautiful Polly was a feral kitten, and very sick when they neighbors brought her over. I had to comb out all her fleas, she was too young for any medication. And her eyes were infected, her ears were infected, she had worms--she would have been dead if I hadn't spent the money on her, frankly. She learned early on to love the flea comb, because it meant she felt better, less biting and itching. I was surprised how easy that part was, and she was so little. She hated the ear and eye meds, and the antibiotics. But I cuddled her, talked to her, petted, played, everything possible to socialize her. And mostly she is. Until she isn't. She loves to sleep on the bed, play, be petted--until she doesn't want to any more, and you have to watch for the warning signs. If you quit, you're ok. If you don't, it's a tetanus shot, once the emergency room because the bite was so deep. No play bites, no play claws; she can go from lovey to totally wild in a heartbeat. It really takes love and patience (and lots of band aids) to handle a feral, because the wild is always in there somewhere. And Polly weighs 17 lbs., that's muscle, not fat. But I love her dearly anyway. Definitely a crazy cat lady. Sorry I can't put a picture in a comment, but she's just the ordinary looking grey tiger cat, but with 7 front toes and also thumbs on her back feet.