Dr. Chris Endfinger has spent nearly 30 years in emergency rooms across Alabama. He’s helped thousands of people through their worst moments—car crashes, strokes, broken bones, and more. But if you ask him what matters most, he won’t just talk about medicine.
“I’ve come to realize that healing isn’t just about fixing bodies. It’s about being present with people when they’re scared, hurting, or confused,” Chris says.
Chris didn’t always know that. He got into medicine because he wanted to help people. Over time, the job showed him something deeper—something he calls “a sacred space” between doctor and patient. That space, he says, is where healing really begins.
A Life Built on Hard Work
Chris Endfinger was raised in a family that valued service and hard work. His mom was a hospital social worker. His dad owned a small machine parts business.
“I saw both sides growing up,” Chris Endfinger says. “My mom showed me compassion. My dad showed me discipline. Those lessons stayed with me.”
He went to Gulf Breeze High School in Florida, then studied Biochemistry at David Lipscomb University. He also minored in Math and French. After that, he earned his medical degree from the University of Alabama at Birmingham (UAB) in 1993.
During his Family Practice residency at UAB, Chris was named Intern of the Year. He later served as Chief Resident.
“I didn’t plan to end up in emergency medicine,” he says. “But once I was there, I knew it was the right fit. You don’t know what’s coming through the door next. It forces you to stay sharp.”
28 Years on the Front Lines
Chris has worked as an Emergency Room (ER) physician for 28 years. He’s seen it all—from small injuries to life-threatening trauma. He served as ER Director at Gadsden Regional Hospital from 2004 to 2007.
He says the ER has changed over the years.
“The medicine has gotten better. The technology is faster. But we’re also seeing more people come in with mental health needs, or people who don’t have access to care elsewhere.”
Despite the changes, Chris says one thing has stayed the same: the human need for connection.
“People come to the ER on one of the worst days of their lives. Sometimes they just need someone to see them—to really see them.”
Finding Purpose in Faith
Chris is quick to tell you he’s not perfect. But his faith has been his compass throughout his career.
“When I was younger, I thought faith was about having all the answers,” he says. “Now I think it’s more about trust—trusting that the work matters, even when you don’t see the outcome.”
He’s a member of CrossBridge Church of Christ and has been on medical mission trips to Honduras.
“Serving in Honduras reminded me why I became a doctor. We had fewer tools, but sometimes the impact was even greater. It was just about showing up, offering care, and treating people with dignity.”
He says that work changed his outlook.
“I started to see medicine as more than a job. It became a calling.”
Beyond the ER
Chris doesn’t just live in the hospital. He’s been married to his wife, Amanda, for 33 years. They have two children—Grace, a U.S. Army captain and West Point graduate, and Connor, a UAB business graduate working in sales. He’s also a proud grandfather to a little boy named James.
Outside of work, Chris enjoys playing guitar, reading, and going to the gym. He says staying healthy outside the hospital makes him a better doctor inside it.
“You can’t pour from an empty cup. You’ve got to take care of yourself too.”
Leading with Humility
Chris’s leadership style is quiet but strong. As an ER Director, he believed in leading by example.
“I didn’t ask anyone to do something I wouldn’t do myself. You gain trust that way.”
He also learned to speak up—even when it’s hard.
Early in his career, he stayed quiet during a disagreement over a patient’s care plan. The outcome wasn’t good.
“I learned that silence can be just as harmful as action. Since then, I’ve always tried to speak up, especially when it matters most.”
Medicine and Meaning
Chris says the ER can be a lonely place. But it’s also where he finds meaning.
“Sometimes the medicine does everything it can, and it’s not enough. In those moments, words matter. Sometimes you offer comfort. Sometimes you offer prayer. Sometimes silence says the most.”
He says healing doesn’t always mean curing.
“Sometimes healing is just being with someone in their pain, offering peace when there are no easy answers.”
He sees every patient interaction as a chance to do something meaningful.
“It might not seem big at the time. But those small moments—they matter.”
Looking Forward
Chris recently launched a personal website to share his stories and reflections on medicine, faith, and life. He hopes it can be a resource for young doctors, patients, and anyone looking for a deeper understanding of healthcare.
He says his goal isn’t to be famous or flashy. He just wants to be honest.
“I’ve made mistakes. I’ve had wins. I’ve seen miracles and heartbreak. I want to share what I’ve learned—not as an expert, but as someone who’s still learning too.”
At the end of the day, Chris sees his work as part of something bigger.
“The ER is where my skills meet the world’s needs. I’m not just treating bodies. I’m showing up with a faithful heart and open hands. That’s the kind of doctor I try to be.”
And after nearly 30 years, he’s still showing up—one patient, one shift, one small act of care at a time.
