
Sign up to save your podcasts
Or


Dispatched & Dysfunctional – Because sometimes the worst calls make the best stories.
Welcome to Dispatched & Dysfunctional — where the darkest moments become stories of resilience. These aren’t polished hero tales. They’re the raw, unfiltered truths of EMS: the calls that scar, the ones that save, and the ones we carry forever.
🚑 Some tones blur together. But this one cut like a knife. Dispatch read the address, and my heart stopped — it wasn’t a stranger’s. It was my dad’s.
We train for cardiac arrests. We drill the rhythm, the compressions, the meds. We tell ourselves muscle memory will carry us through. But nothing prepares you for kneeling on your own floor, staring at your father’s face, and realizing that the job you’ve dedicated your life to just crashed into your family.
That night, EMS collided with bloodlines. And I wasn’t the medic anymore. I was the son.
What held me together wasn’t a protocol or a checklist — it was my partner. Quiet, steady, becoming the anchor I needed when my own uniform felt heavier than I could carry.
⚠️ CONTENT WARNING: Graphic EMS content, cardiac arrest, mental health, and dark humor. Listener discretion advised.
Why It Matters:
🧠 Need support?
💬 “I’d rather hear your story than read your eulogy.”
📬 Want to share your story?
By Chris StocktonDispatched & Dysfunctional – Because sometimes the worst calls make the best stories.
Welcome to Dispatched & Dysfunctional — where the darkest moments become stories of resilience. These aren’t polished hero tales. They’re the raw, unfiltered truths of EMS: the calls that scar, the ones that save, and the ones we carry forever.
🚑 Some tones blur together. But this one cut like a knife. Dispatch read the address, and my heart stopped — it wasn’t a stranger’s. It was my dad’s.
We train for cardiac arrests. We drill the rhythm, the compressions, the meds. We tell ourselves muscle memory will carry us through. But nothing prepares you for kneeling on your own floor, staring at your father’s face, and realizing that the job you’ve dedicated your life to just crashed into your family.
That night, EMS collided with bloodlines. And I wasn’t the medic anymore. I was the son.
What held me together wasn’t a protocol or a checklist — it was my partner. Quiet, steady, becoming the anchor I needed when my own uniform felt heavier than I could carry.
⚠️ CONTENT WARNING: Graphic EMS content, cardiac arrest, mental health, and dark humor. Listener discretion advised.
Why It Matters:
🧠 Need support?
💬 “I’d rather hear your story than read your eulogy.”
📬 Want to share your story?