Hospitalists - Cypress, TX

"I am writing this review and posting it to alert others to the recent negative experience my dad and I had while under the care of Dr. Ahmed Zeb Kahn. My dad was going to live to be 100; however, his life was cut short at 91 in the cruelest of deaths. My dad was a patient, generous, kindhearted soul with a determined hardworking core and a zest for life. His love of life made him determined to beat cancer in 2022 at the age of 90, so he underwent surgery and then drove himself to 6 weeks of radiation, which zapped his body but did not zap his spirit or will to live. He started off 2023 with high hopes of a great year; however, it turned into the worst year of his life, and he tragically died at Methodist Hospital on August 6, 2023. I just want to share a few details of Dad’s final days to caution others. In August we went to the ER on a Wednesday, and Dad was admitted under Dr. Khan’s care on the IMU floor. Dad was hooked up to an oxygen, heart rate and blood pressure monitor, which was appropriate given his oxygen demand was two liters on Wednesday afternoon; by Wednesday night it was four liters. When I got to the hospital early Thursday morning, I could see Dad’s oxygen requirement had increased to six liters. Dr. Khan did his rounds Thursday morning and informed Dad and me that they weren’t sure what was the matter with Dad but that he could have an autoimmune disease. This news frightened Dad, who was already very anxious given he had been to Methodist hospital for pneumonia just two weeks earlier. Within an hour, the nurse informed us that we were being moved to a less critical room because Dr. Khan thought Dad was improving. Moving to a new room also increased Dad’s anxiety, especially when he heard his heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen level would not be consistently monitored and Dad knew his oxygen level seemed to be deteriorating rapidly and, given his history of accidently knocking off his nasal cannula and inability to put it back on due to neuropathy in his hands. I demanded that they put a monitoring system on Dad, and they did. In the new room, Dad asked if he could please have something to help with his anxiety. Dr. Khan prescribed Lorazepam (also known as Ativan), which Dad was promptly given. Little did Dad and I know that this was a very bad pill for him. Instead of calming him down and helping him sleep, it made him incredibly restless and caused shortness of breath. He spent the next six hours tossing and turning and talking in a state of delirium. I mentioned to the nurse that I thought there was something wrong especially as his breathing seemed quite short; but every time I went to the nurses station to check on his oxygen, I was told it was over 90 so everything was okay. Watching Dad, I could tell something wasn’t right, so I did some research into the side effects of Lorazepam and read that special precautions should be taken if you have lung problems (which Dad clearly did given his pneumonia and oxygen requirements) and are over 65 (in which case, a lower dose was recommended; however, Dad had been given a normal dose). The research also indicated that there could have serious side effects that could include inability to sit still and shortness of breath and that if any of these serious side effects were present to contact your doctor. I was horrified to read this especially given anyone could see that my dad’s respiratory issues and given he was definitely older than 65. I also couldn’t believe that no one mentioned the side effects to us when administering the pill. And although a nurse had come into the room and observed Dad every hour, she did not raise any concerns to the doctor. Around 6pm, I insisted that something was wrong, and the nurse agreed to have the night nurse schedule a breathing treatment for Dad. Around 8pm, the respiratory therapist came and first checked Dad’s oxygen level via an atrial blood test as that provides the most accurate assessment and was shocked to see Dad’s CO2 level was above 70 (normal levels are 35 to 45). They then placed a CPAP on Dad and rushed him back to the IMU area where we would receive intensive monitoring. This was the very same area where he had been 12 hours earlier but was moved because he was “improving.” The CPAP mask they placed on Dad was too small and by Friday morning it had smashed his nose into his face. Dad had struggled to breathe with it all night and tried to take it off several times. Thank goodness the respiratory therapist had mercy on Dad and found him a larger mask; however, by then he had already suffered for many hours. Once on Friday morning, when I left the room, the hose connecting the mask to the CPAP machine came off and Dad’s oxygen, heart rate and blood pressure all dropped to levels that required several staff to rush in for fear that he was going to pass away. Dr. Khan did not really have anything new to say that day; however, he asked me whether Dad wanted to be resuscitated if something like that were to happen again. The staff said Dad needed to keep the CPAP on until his CO2 levels got back to normal levels, and they were still too high. That meant Dad was unable to drink or eat or talk from Thursday night until the end. This brings me to Saturday. On Saturday (Dad’s last day alive), although Dad couldn’t talk with the CPAP, you could see in his eyes that he was yearning for someone to help him. On Saturday morning, when Dr. Khan made his rounds, he opened the door and took two steps into the room, which was about 15 feet away from Dad, and never got any closer to Dad. I was in disbelief and disgust that Dr. Khan took so little interest in Dad that he didn’t come closer and examine Dad. Dr. Khan simply asked if we had any questions and in my state of sadness due to his lack of care, I could not think of anything to say, so Dr. Khan left the room never to be seen again. Dad died Sunday morning."