Meeting her there removes a dozen obstacles at once
In the Hunter region of New South Wales, two healthcare programs have secured extended Commonwealth funding, quietly marking a turning point in how medicine approaches those fleeing domestic violence. Rather than waiting for survivors to find their way to care, these initiatives bring care to them — into refuges, into trusted spaces, into the silences where injuries go unnamed. It is a recognition, long overdue, that healing cannot begin where safety does not yet exist.
- More than 80% of women who suffered violence-related head injuries had never sought medical care — a hidden epidemic of undiagnosed traumatic brain injury compounding silently over time.
- Standard healthcare settings, built for efficiency and brief appointments, have consistently failed survivors whose needs are complex, layered, and inseparable from fear.
- The Supporting Outreach Healthcare Pilot dismantles the barriers of cost, transport, and exposure by sending multidisciplinary health teams directly into refuge accommodation across Newcastle, Lake Macquarie, and Maitland.
- Hope in Healing opens the first dedicated primary care pathways for screening mild traumatic brain injury in domestic violence survivors — a clinical gap that previously had no formal response.
- Federal funding extensions, championed by local MPs, signal a deliberate shift from crisis-only intervention toward early identification and prevention as a healthcare design principle.
Two programs built for women and children escaping domestic violence have secured extended funding in New South Wales's Hunter region, signalling a meaningful shift in how the health system responds to its most vulnerable people.
The Supporting Outreach Healthcare Pilot takes a simple but radical approach: rather than expecting traumatised survivors to navigate unfamiliar clinics, it sends doctors, nurses, and allied health professionals directly into refuge accommodation. Delivered through a partnership between Brightwell Health, Hunter New England Local Health District, and several community organisations, the model dissolves the barriers — fear of recognition, transport costs, institutional confusion — that routinely keep survivors from seeking care at all. It offers something mainstream healthcare rarely can: time, trust, and the right environment for the longer conversations trauma demands.
The second program, Hope in Healing, addresses an even less visible wound. Research from the University of Newcastle found that more than eighty percent of survivors who had experienced potential head injuries from violence had never received medical attention. Repeated blows, strangulation, and falls cause traumatic brain injuries that go undiagnosed for years, their effects quietly accumulating. Hope in Healing will establish dedicated primary care clinics to screen for and treat mild traumatic brain injury in this population — creating pathways that simply did not exist before.
Both programs were originally seeded by the Hunter New England and Central Coast Primary Health Network, which identified systemic gaps and built working models to fill them. Commonwealth funding has now extended their reach. Federal MPs Sharon Claydon and Meryl Swanson backed the investment, with Claydon framing it as a move from crisis response toward early intervention. PHN Chief Executive Richard Nankervis put it directly: domestic and family violence is one of the region's greatest drivers of poor health outcomes, and these programs show what becomes possible when healthcare is designed around people's real lives rather than institutional convenience. The question now is whether what works locally can reshape the system more broadly.
In the Hunter region of New South Wales, two healthcare programs designed specifically for women and children escaping domestic violence have just secured extended funding—a moment that marks a shift in how the health system thinks about safety and care for some of its most vulnerable people.
The Supporting Outreach Healthcare Pilot does something straightforward but radical: it brings doctors, nurses, and other health professionals directly into refuge accommodation across Newcastle, Lake Macquarie, and Maitland. Rather than asking traumatized women and children to navigate the anxiety of a clinic waiting room, the program comes to them. It's delivered through a partnership between Brightwell Health, Hunter New England Local Health District, and several community organizations including NOVA, Warlga Ngurra, Carrie's Place, and Jenny's Place. The model removes the obstacles that typically keep survivors from seeking care—the fear of being recognized, the cost of transport, the confusion of navigating an unfamiliar system, the simple impossibility of leaving a refuge to sit in a public space.
Women and children who have experienced domestic, family, or sexual violence often carry a constellation of health problems that don't fit neatly into standard medical categories. They may have physical injuries, yes, but also depression, anxiety, developmental delays in children, sleep disorders, chronic pain. Mainstream healthcare settings are built for efficiency, for fifteen-minute appointments and clear diagnoses. They are not built for the longer, more careful conversations that trauma requires. The Outreach Pilot changes that equation by meeting people where they are, in environments they already trust, with time to listen.
The second program, called Hope in Healing, addresses something even more hidden. Researchers at the University of Newcastle, working with the Port Stephens Family and Neighbourhood Service, have been investigating traumatic brain injury among survivors of domestic and family violence. The evidence is striking: more than eighty percent of women, young people, and children who had experienced a potential head injury from violence never sought medical care. Brain injuries from repeated blows, strangulation, or falls go undiagnosed and untreated, their effects compounding over time. Hope in Healing will establish primary care clinics specifically designed to screen for and respond to mild traumatic brain injury in this population, creating pathways that currently don't exist.
Both programs were initially developed and seed-funded by the Hunter New England and Central Coast Primary Health Network, which recognized gaps in the system and built proof-of-concept models. The Commonwealth government has now extended funding to expand them. Federal Members Sharon Claydon and Meryl Swanson advocated for the investment, with Claydon emphasizing that the programs represent a shift from crisis response to early intervention—from waiting for emergencies to happen and then patching people up, to identifying and addressing problems before they spiral.
Richard Nankervis, the Chief Executive Officer of the Primary Health Network, framed it plainly: domestic, family, and sexual violence is one of the most significant drivers of poor health outcomes for women and children in the region. These programs demonstrate what becomes possible when healthcare is designed around people's actual needs rather than around institutional convenience. They remove barriers. They integrate care across disciplines. They happen in safe, trusted spaces. The question now is whether this model—proven locally—can reshape how the broader health system thinks about trauma and safety.
Citas Notables
This investment is about making sure women and children experiencing violence can access the health care they need—safely, quickly and close to where they are.— Sharon Claydon MP, Federal Member for Newcastle
These programs demonstrate what is possible when we design services around people's real needs—removing barriers, integrating care and ensuring support is delivered in safe and trusted environments.— Richard Nankervis, Chief Executive Officer of Hunter New England and Central Coast Primary Health Network
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter that these clinics go into refuges instead of asking women to come to a hospital or clinic?
Because asking a woman in crisis to navigate a public healthcare system is asking her to do something she may not be able to do. She might be afraid of being seen, of her abuser finding out, of judgment. She might not have transport. She might not have childcare. The refuge is already a place she's chosen to be, where she knows the staff. Meeting her there removes a dozen obstacles at once.
And the brain injury piece—why is that being overlooked in the first place?
Because it's not visible. A broken arm shows up on an X-ray. But a concussion from being hit or strangled, especially if it happens repeatedly over months or years, can look like depression or anxiety or memory problems. Doctors aren't trained to ask about head injuries in the context of domestic violence, and survivors often don't connect the dots themselves.
What does it mean that eighty percent of women didn't seek care?
It means the injury was either not recognized as an injury, or the woman couldn't access care even if she wanted to. Maybe she was isolated. Maybe she didn't have money. Maybe she didn't know it was a medical problem. The brain injury just became part of the background noise of her life.
Is this just about treating injuries, or is there something else happening?
It's about believing that survivors deserve the same quality of healthcare as anyone else—and then actually building a system that makes that possible. Most healthcare is designed for people with stable lives. This is designed for people whose lives are anything but stable.
What happens after the funding runs out?
That's the real test. These programs have to prove they work well enough, and save enough money in the long run, that they become permanent. Right now they're still pilots. The hope is that other regions will see what's working here and build their own versions.