Content warning: This article contains images of a deceased Indigenous person. 

When Katrina Sing’s grandmother had a fall at home and didn’t tell anyone, she was concerned.

“She was battling stage 4 cancer,” Ms Sing told SBS News. 

“I got to nan’s [and asked] ‘how you going?’ and she said, ‘yeah, yeah, I’m good’ – and one of the aunties said ‘no, no, no, she’s fallen over.”

The Wiradjuri and Yorta Yorta woman, who works as an Aboriginal liaison officer at Fairfield Hospital in Sydney, decided to create a space where those like her grandma could felt welcome and safe in asking for help. 

Aunty Roma’s Falls Prevention Group, named in honour of her grandmother who died last year, helps empower participants from Indigenous backgrounds with mobility and balance training. 

It also breaks down fears many have about visiting hospitals and seeking medical treatment.

“Hospitals, for my people, were a place to go to die or have your children removed. This is still a fear impacting today,” Ms Sing said. 

Hospitals, for my people, were a place to go to die or have your children removed. This is still a fear impacting today.

– Katrina Sing

“They may have grown up in an institution or been removed, and being here might remind them of that girls home they were raised in.” 

“This is massive for our community.” 

In the year the program has been running at Fairfield Hospital, participant numbers have doubled.

People attending are aged up to their 80s and all group members share an Indigenous identity – as do most of their assigned health workers.

“It is so important they see representation in a setting like a hospital,” Ms Sing said. 

When Fay Milligan’s husband died 18 months ago, shortly after her 80th birthday, her son was worried nobody would be around to help her if she fell.

Since she has been training with the group, she has developed her strength and knowledge around accident prevention at home. She is now steadier on her feet and making new friends. 

“It is wonderful, you get to meet people and we have a laugh. You do get stronger too; there are things I can do that I couldn’t do before.”

The participants have given fun names to different motions or poses they do in the classes, including ‘floating lotus’ and ‘squashing possums’.

Patient safety manager Minh Pham, who runs the program with assistance from Ms Sing, said: “I give them homework and they’re pretty competitive with one another, always trying to ‘one-up’ one another.” 

“They feel safe to share their vulnerabilities and as a team are dissolving barriers.” 

Participant John Morgan said when he was in previously in hospital, he felt like “just a number”.

“I would cry myself to sleep of a night time. But here, in this place, it isn’t like that. You get your dignity back when people look you in the eye and can share a laugh.”

You get your dignity back when people look you in the eye and can share a laugh.

– John Morgan 

And after a lifetime of what he says was a “hush-hush” Indigenous identity, John is finally able to embrace his family history.

“My grandma was half Indigenous, and in the ‘50s it was kept a secret. But I’m really proud of my heritage; I even have started doing some stick paintings.”

Aunty Susan Grant is Aunty Roma’s daughter. She uses a wheelchair after a range of illnesses but is now getting her strength back in the classes.

“Mum would have said ‘Susan, get out of that chair!’”

She has been so motivated by the opportunity to share her culture while improving her health that she has even taken up swimming.

“I am now exercising, which I don’t do! I used to hate exercise but now I find myself bringing other people along. Mum would be very, very proud of me.”

Ms Sing hopes other hospitals will adopt similar programs catering to Indigenous communities.

“The reality is Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders have an average life expectancy 15 years younger than the rest of society, and not feeling included in medical settings can discourage them from treatment.”