Time: 2 a.m.

In the waking hour of 2 a.m. on a Sunday I knew something was wrong. I cannot lie down, I cannot walk, and I can hardly breathe as my hands are clenching my abdominal area.

This was a pain I have never experienced before in my short 23 years of life. Trying to ignore the knives I felt stabbing my stomach, I somehow managed to crawl underneath the kitchen table. At that moment I knew I needed to make “the call.”

Most doctors are used to “the call.” Pulled out of their sleep most nights, especially if they are on-call, their bodies become accustomed to the disruption. Trying to stay coherent, I hear the phone pick up and a startlingly cheery voice greets me with a “hello” as if it was 3 in the afternoon. Without reservation, tears flood down my cheeks as I attempt the actions necessary with my doctor for transport to the Emergency Room.

Time: 3 a.m.

Hunched over and clenching my doctor’s sweater as if it was my only lifeline, he helps me into the ER. Nurses come to relieve the poor guy from my death grip, place me into a wheel chair and as they roll me away, I faintly hear my doctor giving direction as to what tests and procedures I need to have. The pain is now much worse. A Civil War was going on inside my abdomen.

Time: 4 a.m.

My doctor walks alongside my bed as I am wheeled to receive a CT Scan. He has a smile on his face. All I can think is, “What is he is so happy about?” Despite my misery and lack of sleep, his smile helped. I felt safe.

Time: 5 a.m.

Running on no sleep, I stare as the ER doctor walks in my room, looks at me, looks at my chart, looks back at me and bluntly states, “Yep! Looks like you have appendicitis. You need surgery in the next few hours.” He then leaves the room as quickly as he entered. Re-adjusting my ears and blinking at least twice, my line of sight meets with my doctor. His eyes confirmed the diagnosis.

On cue, like any scared girl would, I cry. The doctor softly grabs my hand, reassures me of the situation and then explains the procedure step-by-step for me. What can I say? In my profession as a TV producer, I need to know the details!

Time: 8 a.m.

Nurses are wheeling me into surgery. There he is, smiling, and walking along side me praying out loud so my ears could hear. I felt safe. I felt peace. Those are the last words I remember: words of prayer. Then I woke up, alive, and with my doctor asleep on the very small couch in my room. It was undeniably a long morning.

I share this story because my doctor does not stay at the hospital all night just for me. His devotion to my well-being is a direct reflection of his persistence for all of his patients in their times of need. That is the kind of doctor my dad is.

A night filled with fear and mental chaos instantly calmed with the care I received from my doctor and my dad, Dr. Robert Yerrington. As most people reading this would think, “She got that kind of attention because she’s ‘the daughter.’ ” Surprisingly enough, in most cases I would say, “Yes, you’re right.” However, there are some doctors who make it their life’s work to provide quality care to each and every patient – and one of those doctors is my dad.

Let’s examine the word “care.” One of its many definitions is “to protect, to take charge.” To take care implies a “watchful, conscientious effort to do something exactly right … an effort to see that nothing is overlooked, an effort that requires a considerable amount of activity and exertion.”

Does that sound like the usual “care” you receive?

An average trip to the doctor consists of a common 15-30 minute wait. You then spend 10 minutes or so with the nurse or physician’s assistant. They take your vitals, record your blood pressure, ask you the pertinent questions, and so on.

Then, if you are lucky, the doctor enters. After five minutes you quickly find yourself back with the nurse, prescription in hand, and you proceed to the checkout window, pull out your wallet and make another follow-up appointment in six weeks.

Does that type of “care” sound familiar?

Before choosing family practice 28 years ago, Yerrington, a San Antonio native, had several options based on his wide-ranging talent. He could have chosen internal medicine, pediatrics, general surgery, or oncology. By choosing family practice, Yerrington was criticized by many who thought that this chosen field is too wide and too basic for his skill level.

However, Yerrington describes his decision as his “calling” more than anything else. “It is in line with everything God wants me to do. He wants me to have an impact in people’s lives.”

Yerrington confidently states, “I entered family medicine because I really love people.”

One of the many gifts Yerrington possesses is establishing instant rapport with people. He makes patients feel at ease. This is challenging for some physicians. They can be intimidating, they may be rushed, or their communication style can be daunting. Most of Yerrington’s patients share the most personal and gut-wrenching information within minutes of meeting. I know this because patients tell me. My dad creates that kind of an environment every day.

Scripture greets you on the walls of every patient room in his practice. He wants the patients to read the scriptures so “the healing process can begin before I ever walk into the room.” This encompasses the “healing of the body, healing of the spirit, and healing of the soul.”

Recent economic events and changes in health insurance policies cause office environments to change. Yerrington confesses that in fact, “It’s very difficult to have my personal code of ethics and survive in today’s world.”

Many health care providers have resulted in running a “turning patients” practice, spending the least time with them as possible; some without actually “seeing” the patient, but “billing” the patient for a doctor’s visit. Yerrington insists that in his practice, “when someone sees me, they see me. I try to really hear what their problem is.”

Yerrington confesses that when he is with patients, he probably enjoys it too much, “I am literally loving people all day long, and I think they sense that.”

Does that type of “care” sound typical?

Yerrington sees family practice as a patient’s medical foundation, the gateway to all their future health needs. A family practitioner at any given time also serves as a psychotherapist, diagnostician, orthopedist, pediatrician, even a sports medicine doctor, just to name a few.

Yerrington prides himself in meeting his new patient as a newborn, watching them grow, understanding their history so when an emergency arises, he already knows the patient’s tolerance, fears, risks, and so on. He is the best person to call in times of crisis. Just like he did for me, Yerrington acts on behalf of all of his patients because he knows them better than any ER doctor will.

A few months ago, one patient wrote a letter to me expressing his gratitude for my dad and for the care he received. For the purpose of this article, I will share this portion of it:

“Dear Amy,
Your father is a great man of God. Your father is a great doctor. Your father is a great father. Your father is a great man.

I went through Bell’s palsy, knee problems and other various ailments with your father. I camped in his waiting room at least three years of my life and spent thousands of dollars in co-pays. I may have paid for your education, but I am not sure.

At a pivotal point in my life, your father took on the assignment to take control of my medical needs ... The last thing that I remember that day was going through the two double doors of the hospital. I made it just in time, due to the swiftness of the EMS crew and the quick thinking of your dad.

During my long eight-month stay, your father was there almost every day. He kept me updated and prayed for me. He assembled a top-notch team of doctors and approved of every step that was taken.

During a dark time, he sang songs about healing to me. I looked forward to his cheerful smile each day. His prayers were heart-felt and real. He was honest and told me the facts. However, he let me know that not all facts are the truth.

All of my organs shut down, but that did not stop your father from praying for me … Your dad believed in my healing.

Suddenly, my organs came back online, one by one. Your dad still prayed. I started to get strength into my body and your dad still prayed. I started to walk and your dad still prayed.

I was released and your dad rejoiced.

Your father took a tough assignment. I am grateful that he did.”

Does that type of “care” sound average?

Looking back and reviewing what “care” truly means, “to protect and to take charge,” that is exactly what Yerrington achieves in his practice. He brings “healing with the grace of God to every person who walks through the door.”

Yerrington reflects that “I’m touching people all day long and I can feel it when they turn a corner … my patients come to me for care and they are cared for.” Every day he strives to “forget the past and look forward to what lies ahead, he presses on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling him” (Philippians 3:13-14).

Every girl can sit down and write some thoughts about her dad. As I finish this article, I write each word with pride and with a smile on my face. Growing up, I have seen the time, the exertion, and the exhaustive effort it takes to bring quality and quantity amounts of care to a practice. It is not easy. It is not the most cost-beneficial. It is the most life changing.

That is the kind of doctor my dad is.