The Lesser of Two Evils

Sometimes in this journey through Alzheimer's, we are faced with choosing the lesser of two evils.  That was the case this week for me.

Mother's left hand has become even more contracted, and she can rarely open it and it hurts her. The aides at the nursing home have to pry her hand open each morning to take off the brace she wears at night.  She screams.They have to pry her hand open to wash her hand because she keeps it in such a tight grip that her palm gets yeasty and can get infected.  She screams. They have to pry her hand open to cut her nails.  She screams.  They have to pry her hand open to put a rolled up wash cloth in it for the day, and if she pulls it out with her teeth, they have to do it again.  She screams.  They have to pry her hand open to put the brace on at night. She screams.

The doctor suggested botox injections to help her muscles relax and to release the contraction in her hand.  I thought it was worth a try.  But I was not prepared for the process of getting the shots for her.  I explained over and over what was going to happen.  The doctor explained.  Mother looked at her arm, but none of what we said made sense to her.  I held her arm.  My husband held her other hand and tried to distract her.  The doctor placed the needle in her arm, and she screamed bloody murder.  The look on her face broke my heart.  She was terrified and angry.  She tried to bite me.  She was like an animal who doesn't understand that it is only a small sting.  She screamed at the top of her lungs.

After four or five shots, it was over.  She was fine, and amazingly, she had absolutely no memory of the shots.  She was calm and smiling at everyone.  Her arm didn't hurt.  She was happy, and she had no grudge towards me or the doctor.  It was as if she were trying to figure out what we were all doing there.

But in my mind I can still see her face contorted in terror and pain.  I can still hear her scream.  It will take two weeks to know if the botox will help with the contraction, but I don't know if I can put her through those shots again.  But therein lies the dilemma.  Do I put her through the trauma of botox shots or the daily trauma of prying open her clenched hand.  Which is the lesser evil? Which is the more loving? There are no easy answers to most of life, and there are definitely no easy answer here.