What my mother’s death in Lahore taught me about patient care

For 26 days I struggled to be taken seriously.

I never imagined that taking my mother to hospital would end with her death. On 22 January 2026, my 83-year-old mother was admitted to a private hospital in Lahore after suffering burns in a household accident. We took her there because we believed she would receive appropriate medical treatment, careful monitoring and compassionate care. Like most families, we placed our trust in the doctors, nurses and hospital system. She did not survive.

I recognise that medicine is complex, that elderly patients with serious injuries can deteriorate despite the best possible treatment, and that not every death is preventable. But I was with my mother throughout much of her 26-day admission and witnessed the treatment, her deterioration and the way our family struggled to communicate with the team. I share here the questions about care she received in the hope that it may help other families.

My mother’s hospitalisation

In January, my mother accidentally stood too close to a gas heater and her clothes caught fire. Fortunately, the fire was extinguished within approximately a minute, and she did not suffer an inhalation injury. She sustained second-degree burns to her legs and was admitted to the burns unit and treated by a consultant, who headed it.

Initially, she received topical treatment, and her wounds were scrubbed and dressed daily. The wound-scrubbing process was extremely painful. She would scream during some procedures and would be physically and emotionally exhausted afterwards.

She was given opioid and non-opioid medications at different times for the pain. As her daughter and carer, I repeatedly questioned whether her pain-management plan was appropriate given her age, her condition and her changing medical status. I was concerned about the risks and benefits of the medication being used, but I did not feel that my questions were adequately explained or addressed.

Antibiotics and deterioration

As her wounds developed signs of infection, my mother was treated with intravenous antibiotics. During the first two weeks, she received two courses but developed significant problems, including painful blisters in her mouth, a marked fall in haemoglobin and increasing difficulty eating.
I cannot independently determine the extent to which any medication caused these problems; however, I know that her condition was changing rapidly. Finally, Colistin was commenced intravenously. I was concerned about its potential effects on the kidneys and asked whether there was an opportunity to delay or reconsider the treatment while she recovered from some of the difficulties she had already developed. Nevertheless, the consultant proceeded with the treatment.

I observed increasing fluid retention and swelling in my mother’s legs and feet. Her laboratory results showed significant abnormalities, including deterioration in her electrolytes. She became increasingly drowsy and semi-conscious. Eventually, her kidneys stopped producing urine. I cannot say from my own observations what ultimately caused her kidney failure or whether it could have been prevented.

Those are questions for qualified independent medical experts reviewing her complete medical record. But I believe they are questions that deserve to be asked. Was her kidney function being monitored adequately? Were the risks and benefits of the medications being continually reassessed as her condition changed? Were there alternative treatment options? Was the deterioration recognised early enough? And when her condition began to deteriorate significantly, was escalation of care sufficiently prompt?

The final hours

Her breathing and blood pressure became increasingly unstable. There appeared to be a prolonged period during which doctors were conducting consultations, investigations and assessments. Eventually, a junior doctor on duty rushed her to the Intensive Care Unit and placed her in a glass-sided room. Within approximately 20 minutes, she died.

I stood outside the glass enclosure watching her final moments. I asked to enter the room and hold her hand, but wasn’t allowed.

Communication

One of my serious concerns was not simply the treatment itself, but the way communication took place. I was particularly troubled because I felt that there was little opportunity for patients and carers to raise concerns or ask questions.

On one occasion, I was told: “You are not helping your mother but causing problems.”

There were occasions when I felt that asking questions was interpreted as challenging authority rather than as an attempt by a family member to participate appropriately in her care.

I found it difficult to contact the consultant outside brief ward rounds, which is why I depended heavily on nurses to communicate my concerns. This created a serious barrier. When a patient’s condition is deteriorating, families should not feel afraid to speak. Nor should junior staff feel unable to raise concerns because they fear being reprimanded. A safe healthcare system should encourage questions, not silence them.

The burden placed on the family

At one point, the consultant instructed that my mother should receive two bags of blood. The junior doctors and nurses urgently asked me to arrange for it but it was not immediately available at the hospital’s blood bank and that I was expected to find a donor and organise the process.

Repeated testing

My mother underwent frequent blood tests while admitted. At times, blood was taken approximately every six hours, leaving her arms bruised.

For many investigations, doctors issued vouchers that I had to take to the laboratory to pay for. On occasions, vouchers were delayed or could not be located, requiring me to pay for the tests again. The cost of investigations was substantial. On some days, the laboratory testing alone came to Rs25,000. Blood samples were sometimes collected at very late hours, including around 2am. I understand that critically ill patients require frequent monitoring and investigations but should the frequency, timing and necessity not be balanced against my mother’s age, physical condition, discomfort and overall clinical needs?

Nursing care

Some nurses were caring, knowledgeable and compassionate and I remain grateful to them. However, I also observed significant inconsistencies in nursing care. Initially, vital signs and urine output appeared to be monitored and recorded regularly. As time passed, I observed that documentation became less consistent. On one occasion, a nurse instructed me to record my mother’s urine output and monitor her vital signs. I was willing to help in any reasonable way, but I found it distressing to feel that responsibility for monitoring a critically ill patient was being transferred to a family member. At one stage, a nursing aide was shared across four wards. My mother sometimes had to wait for assistance to use the toilet or bedpan. For an elderly patient with serious burns and a deteriorating medical condition, these delays were deeply concerning.

The pharmacy burden

Another recurring problem was the responsibility placed on me to obtain medicines and equipment. Rather than receiving one comprehensive list of the items required for the day, I was sent to the pharmacy multiple times. I found myself running out to buy medicines, injections, syringes, dressings, fluids, drips and surgical masks—sometimes late at night.

What needs to change

I believe there are lessons that hospitals can and should take seriously.

1. Compassion must be part of clinical care.
   Patients are human beings, not cases or diagnoses. Their families are often frightened and exhausted. They deserve kindness.
2. Patients and carers should be treated with dignity and respect.
   Asking questions should not result in intimidation or dismissal.
3. Patient-centred care must be genuine.
   Families who are closely involved in caring for an elderly or seriously ill patient may have valuable observations. Their concerns should be heard respectfully.
4. Clinical decisions should be transparent.
   Patients and families should, where appropriate, receive understandable explanations about significant treatments, risks, alternatives and changes in condition.
5. Hospitals need psychologically safe environments.
   Junior doctors, nurses and other healthcare workers must be able to raise concerns without fear of humiliation or retaliation.
6. Clinical governance must be strong.
   When a patient’s condition deteriorates unexpectedly, there should be robust systems for reviewing what happened and identifying opportunities for improvement.
7. Serious concerns deserve independent investigation.
   Families should not have to investigate a loved one’s final days on their own.
8. Accountability should follow evidence.
   If an investigation identifies shortcomings in care, those shortcomings should be acknowledged, and meaningful steps should be taken to prevent them from happening again.

Why I am speaking out

I am speaking out because my mother was more than a patient number. She was an 83-year-old woman, a sister, a mother, and a grandmother. She deserved competent medical care, dignity, compassion and the opportunity to have her voice—and, when she could not speak for herself, her family’s observations—heard. I know that doctors and nurses work under enormous pressure. I know that some patients die despite excellent care. I know that hindsight can make complex medical decisions appear simpler than they were at the time.

That is precisely why I am asking for an independent review rather than making definitive accusations. I want to know whether anything could reasonably have been done differently. If there were failures, I want those failures to be acknowledged and addressed.

My mother cannot benefit from any changes that may result. But perhaps another elderly mother or another family, may. No family should leave a hospital carrying the unbearable uncertainty of wondering whether more could have been done for the person they loved. I am asking for transparency, accountability and, above all, better patient care.