Things Jeremy wanted me to remember.

“You know this sucks,” Jeremy scowled. “You know it, and I know that you know it.”At first I wasn’t sure if this was intended to bridge some gap between us, or if I was just a convenient target for some anger. I was only a couple years older than Jeremy and still trying to understand what it meant to be an occupational therapist. I barely had the corners of my own life tucked in properly, and here I was needing to find some headspace to help Jeremy. Every day he made it a point to tell me that his life sucked, and that I knew it more than anyone else.Jeremy had been riding dirt bikes since he was 5 years old. His Dad was a sprint car driver and speed was a part of his everyday existence. He outgrew his little z50 Honda minibike and for several years tooled around the back woods near his house on a bunch of other nondescript bikes that were constantly breaking down. But then he got his hands on a Bultaco 175 Lobito and it was a love affair that he kept going all through his middle and high school years.The Bultaco was fast and it was like strapping a rocket to an already adrenaline charged teenage existence. The bike was never street legal so the only action it ever saw was the bumpy dirt trails leading deep back into the town park that very few people ever explored.Jeremy had no recollection of what happened – he just had the story that people were looking for him for nearly two days and he vaguely recalls the barking of a search dog, a sea of orange v...
Source: ABC Therapeutics Occupational Therapy Weblog - Category: Occupational Therapists Tags: OT practice OT stories Source Type: blogs