The People Person

Franky Barrera covers a lot of ground each day at MLKCH. As a lead public safety officer, he’s constantly moving from one end of the hospital to another—checking on his team in med/surg, jumping in to calm down a patient in the ED, taking a stop to welcome visitors queueing up in the main lobby. Wherever he goes, greetings ring out towards him. “What’s up, Franky?” “Hey Franky!” “Good morning, Franky!”

“I’m a people person,” says Franky. “I can kick it with anyone.”

It’s fitting for someone as gregarious as Franky to work in patient and visitor safety at the hospital. Though he began his career in public safety at a hospital in Orange County, it was when he began working at MLKCH that he understood the depth of impact he could have on a community. He arrived in the spring of 2020, in some of the hardest-hit months of the pandemic. “It was the worst I’ve ever seen it in healthcare,” he says.

Visitors in the hospital’s lobby were Facetiming family members who were intubated and alone in hospital beds. Everywhere he looked, people were anxious and frantic for any news of their loved ones. “Who are you looking for?” he’d ask a visitor. “If things weren’t so busy,” he says, “I’d go check on them in the ICU. Ask the nurse for any info, just try to put them at ease a little.”

That kind of compassion and patience are what helped Franky survive the challenges of the pandemic. And he credits the strengthening of those traits to his eight-year-old son, Grayson, who is autistic. Grayson’s mentality is closer to that of a four-year-old, and he attends special education classes at school. For Franky, his wife and two other teenage children, life with Grayson means that “we all learned a lot about patience.”

As the parent of an autistic child, he’s more alert now to autistic patients who come through the hospital. “It’s always mom or dad taking care of them, and they’re exhausted and overwhelmed,” Franky says. He takes what he’s learned from raising his own son, and tries to share his knowledge and resources with these other parents. “Things like using the phrase ‘we don’t do that,’ instead of the word ‘no,’ can make a big difference,” says Franky. When he sees his coworkers getting frustrated, he tries to explain what works and doesn’t for autistic patients. “Try this sentence instead,” he’ll say, or “try out this method.”

Feeling like he’s making a difference and relating to patients in the hospital is what gives him a sense of community, and the desire to not only give back through MLKCH Gives, but to lead. “I wanted to do more as part of the MLKCH family,” says Franky, and joining committees and serving as a Gives ambassador have given him an even greater sense of connection to his work.

“The people that I never forget are the ones who really appreciated my help,” he says. Though he might not remember all their names, he remembers their faces. Patients who apologized after snapping at him under high stress, families who thank him and give him updates on their loved ones when they return months or years later—they’re the faces that remind him of how compassion, patience, and generosity make a difference.

Making his rounds, Franky says, “It’s heartwarming, and it makes me feel good, knowing I can help people out even with the small things.” After a long day of caring for others, he takes one last moment to take care of himself. “When I take off my boots and put on Crocs in my car? Best moment of the day.”