VIOLENCE
they’re coming from to other health care workers, and I try to steer
them towards better choices,” he explained.
Once a victim of violence is safe in the hospital, and they’ve
begun to connect with KJ and the trauma social workers, they are
presented with the option to enter the Pivot to Peace program.
For some, it can be a tough sell. “You have to not only sell Pivot to
Peace, but you have to sell yourself,” KJ said. “If you do that, they
may go along with what you ask them to do. I try to get on their
level. ‘What’s going on in your life right now? Are you employed?
Do you have children?’ It gets personal. If they have kids, bring the
kids into it. ‘You need to be around for your baby girl.’”
For those that say yes, through hard work and dedication,
a light exists at the end of the tunnel. Peace Ed’s Pivot to Peace
Project Manager Deborah Barnes-Byers and her connections al-
low participants access to mental health therapy, skill building,
substance abuse treatment, legal services, employment and much
more.
“We treat these participants better than clients, because they
aren’t just clients. They’re people, and we want to make sure they’re
treated with dignity and respect,” said Barnes-Byers. “The only
thing these individuals have in common is that they were injured.
They come from various backgrounds, various levels of personal
support. Not every participant is a criminal; many are just victims
of circumstance.”
When Pivot to Peace was founded in 2016, the program’s pa-
rameters were strict: gunshot and stabbing victims between the
ages of 18 and 34 who lived in a collection of Jefferson County
zip codes with the highest rate of violence. But, that focus has ex-
panded, since every neighborhood in the city can have a violent
incident take place. KJ doesn’t play favorites when walking into a
hospital room.
“We always do a soft handoff. I won’t go visit a new participant
until the community health worker introduces me. If they build
a relationship, the patient is more willing to accept a new person
coming in,” Barnes-Byers explained. “We help them identify wrap-
around services in the community. We ask them how they’d like to
change their lives.”
Unfortunately, so many of these people come to the crossroads
of bettering their lives only after an act of violence. Some go to
Pivot to Peace. Some go to Frazier Rehab Institute. Some just go
home. Each has a different injury, a different social status, a differ-
ent life situation. Some are victims of deliberate acts of violence.
Some were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone is hap-
py to see a kind face.
As UofL Hospital is the only Level One trauma center in the
city, KJ’s work is never over. He estimated that he sees four to six
victims of violence every single day.
He marvels at the connection he’s made with some patients.
“One time a nurse walked in and asked the man I was talking to if
I was his brother. We looked at each other for a moment and said
‘yeah.’ That’s just what it is.”
“How many times in your lifetime have you heard, ‘I’m pr oud
of you’? Probably more than these individuals have,” he went on.
“I said it to a patient I was working with. He told me, ‘That means
a lot, because I really have not heard that in my life.’ It’s simple
things, which we take for granted, that can mean so much.”
“KJ has a very unique skill set that you can’t simply train some-
one to do. People recognize when care is genuine, and there is a
huge comfort in the amount of time KJ gets to spend with a pa-
tient. He comes in as a friend, as a family member,” said Annabelle
Pike, MBA, Healthy Community and Injury Prevention Manager
for the UofL Hospital Trauma Center.
Pike has worked with KJ for years. Their jobs overlap in the
space where health care officials hope to make a difference outside
the confines of immediate treatment. “As a hospital, it’s very diffi-
cult to tackle the root causes of what leads to gun violence,” Pike
said. “But, we’re well positioned to use these difficult moments as a
chance to approach people and say, ‘Whatever happened, how can
we support you as you recover?’”
In Pike’s experience, there has recently been a determined push
to give trauma centers a more holistic mindset. Treatment isn’t as
simple as “complete the surgery, recover, live life.” By looking at
the whole person, especially one who is personally or indirectly
affected by violence, changes can be made in the community.
“Trauma centers aren’t just clinical providers anymore,” Pike
explained. “We have people with social science backgrounds,
business backgrounds and a whole team of registrars who inter-
pret data. My position is dedicated to injury prevention, another
is dedicated strictly to outreach, and there are two trauma social
workers, Lindsey and Latasha, who provide patients with bedside
therapeutic counseling and interventions. They work closely with
KJ and are critical to the work done by Pivot to Peace.”
There are times where individual situations of violence may
lead to dramatic situations within the confines of the hospital.
Families and friends may arrive grieving, anxious or excited. If
their behavior interferes with, or endangers, hospital staff or pa-
tients, a team of interventionists is called in to help.
“When my team is called, our goal is to try and calm down
these people who are reeling from an emotional situation. We get
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