The Check WAS in the Mail.

But, of course, it was short by several hundred dollars. Goodness only knows why. For some reason, victim's comp decided to pay for only one of the slideboards I submitted a claim for, and didn't cover all of several other items. I don't know why and probably don't have a snowball's chance in hell of finding out. At least they coughed up some money. Now I can pay July's rent. In another week or so, I should be able to pay August's rent, and then September's rent might actually be in before it is considered late.

My dilemma now is whether or not to ask Mom and Dad to make the car payment again. I really should, as the car needs insurance and the electric bill needs to be paid, but oh how I hate asking. Hate it, hate it, hate it. The stupid thing is, if KidThree needed something that insurance would not cover and that item cost ten thousand dollars, Dad would have his checkbook out faster than I could specify why the item was needed. But several hundred dollars for a car payment? Why do I need that? Again? What was I doing with all my money? (Laundry, Dad, laundry.) Blast. Have I mentioned how much I hate this? But if they cover the car payment, I can pay the electric bill, get insurance on the car so that I can get the car's registration renewed, and let KidThree get her hair and nails done before school starts (something that is vital for her emotional health).

KidOne told me several days ago that she had been talking with the mother of a friend of hers, a woman who is very active in the community and with charitable organizations. She had known that KidOne had a paralyzed sister but hadn't realized all that was behind the paralysis and how our economic lives got shattered almost as badly as KidThree's poor vertebrae. When KidOne explained all, the friend's mother said, in the best Mickey Rooney fashion, "we should have a fundraiser!" The thing is, that is what this woman does. She does fundraisers. She knows how to fundraise. What a connection. At this point, I'm ready to put KidThree out on the corner with a tin cup, so a real fundraiser would be marvelous. And we actually know of an organization that assists people with fundraising for people with catastrophic injuries. So, research to do on the issue, but I am seriously interested in going to the public and begging for funds.

I sort of asked for help once before, but only from family and a couple of close friends. Since KidThree was shot in the stomach (that one bullet did a LOT of damage to my girl), she was for obvious reasons unable to eat for some time, and then was not able to eat much. She ended up losing forty-five pounds. (I called it "The Gunshot Diet: Weight Loss for Those for Whom All Other Diets Failed." Its corollary diet was the "My Kid Got Shot" diet, which took thirty pounds off of me.) Most of her clothes no longer fit her, and many of them were also unsuitable because life in a wheelchair demands certain things from a wardrobe, like snug pants that don't get twisted around when KidThree transfers to or from her chair. I sent out an email explaining the need for help to my siblings, three of the four of whom are well off, and to some cousins and a couple of friends. The response was less then wonderful. My most poverty-stricken friend, a woman who suffered from her own catastrophic illness ten years ago and has been disabled and living at the poverty level ever since, came through in spades with brand-new trendy name-brand pajamas (I had specifically mentioned the need for pajamas, as KidThree was in bed so much). My one sibling who is NOT well off came through with an entire box of clothing she gleaned from her local thrift stores, and one cousin who has no children of her own came through with a check. That was it. Man oh man, did I appreciate those who responded, but what the heck happened to everyone else? It really struck me that two of the three who responded to my plea were the two with the lowest incomes, both of whom were struggling single mothers. Maybe they were the only ones who understood just how crippling the lack of a few dollars could be.

I also went to KidThree's bio-family once for help. They have been very big on reminding KidThree of the importance of 'family,' clearly meaning themselves and not KidThree's incorporation into our family here, but hadn't lifted so much as a finger to do anything to help. Towards the end of last year, KidThree expressed an interest in returning to church, specifically, to the church her auntie used to take her to. Going to this church entailed getting a new outfit, as all dressed to the nines there and KidThree wanted to look good. She knew she would get stared at and made much of, which she was dreading; looking good would at least help her get through it. So, I asked her auntie (the churchmember) if her family could contribute a church outfit, or funds for a church outfit, so KidThree could return to church. The auntie was so friendly, so sure that all her family would love to give her money, she would take care of everything, she would contact her sister and her brothers and some in-laws and everyone would be so glad to help KidThree feel good enough to go back to her home church and what stores did we usually shop at so she could get a gift card with the donated funds.

Then nothing. Not a word. Not a penny. Christmas came and went and KidThree did not make it back to church. A little while later, I was able to get her a nice outfit and she returned to her auntie's church once, where she was noticed and made much of and fussed over by all who were so glad to see her out in public and alive and sharing church with them. And then silence again. Hypocrites.

At any rate, I'm not going to the family again, not bio- and not adopted. This time, we'll beg from the public. Less embarrassing.

And, KidThree has a meeting Monday with the pastor of the church we had been invited to last Sunday. As I wrote before, KidThree didn't make it to the service but did make it to the coffee shop meeting in the evening, where she was able to meet the pastor. Over the past several weeks, KidThree has expressed a desire to get herself straight with God, I think because she is so afraid she will be killed when she goes to testify against her assailants. The poor kid. I am not religious but understand that she is and fully support her in that. I can take her to this church every other Sunday if she wants to go (I get the alternate Sundays with the Unitarians). The pastor can come over to our home and I will go out for coffee or something so they can have all the privacy they need and he can help my beloved girl feel better about all the things going on in her life.

I left a voicemail message this morning for the ADA, asking where we were in our wait for a courtroom. KidThree will have to testify for a day or two, a week or two into the trial. She has had death threats because she is testifying, and the jailed assailants have been offering substantial amounts of money to friends of hers if they can convince her not to testify. My parents offered to come with us for moral support, but she said no almost before they finished asking; the reason for her 'no' was that she didn't want them to get shot. "Mom, they're old and they can't run!" I am so proud of my girl. Anyone firing at her will have to shoot me first.

A