Driver's License = Medical Certificate?

One nice thing about AOPA's new, PR-oriented management is that it's oh so easy to discern their agenda. DVD-of-the-month club, life insurance, medical certification assistance, legal assistance, credit cards, and numerous other "member benefits" are being hawked to each and every AOPA member on a regular basis. AOPA seems thirsty for money. Quoting John Ciardi: "May you stay solvent by whatever means are available to you."

Issues that AOPA reports repeatedly in their newsletters and magazines have obviously been designated as their top priorities. These priorities would seem to include bringing back BARR (Block Aircraft Registration Requests) so no one will know how business jets are being used, just saying "no" to user fees, just saying "yes" to NextGen and ADS-B, and now advocating the elimination of the 3rd class medical certificate.

The proposal at hand seems to be "If you hold a driver's license, that's good enough to be PIC and you don't need a 3rd class medical." One would assume the requirements for 1st and 2nd class medical certificates would not change and would still be required for commercial and airline transport pilots. It seems that with an appropriate pilot's certificate and driver's license as a medical, this proposal would allow someone to fly not just the light-sport/flying-lawn-furniture sorts of aircraft, but presumably aircraft with a maximum gross takeoff weight as high as 12,499 pounds. This sounds ridiculous just typing the words.

The criteria for a third class medical certificate are remarkably liberal, giving rise to the old joke: "If you can see lightning and hear thunder, you can get a medical certificate." Now if you have a medical condition that could unexpectedly render you unconscious or otherwise impair you, that's another story. Pilots with diabetes, heart conditions, high blood pressure, cognitive impairments all come under scrutiny. As well they should, but the FAA medical certification division has still done a pretty good job of allowing for pilots with special circumstances to obtain a medical certificate. For example ...

Another complaint is that getting a medical certificate is a hassle. Think about that: If you're under 40 years of age, your 3rd class medical certificate is good for five years (60 calendar months). If you're over 40, it's still good for 2 years (24 calendar months). A trip to the AME every two or five years is hardship? Give me a break! Now if you have a special medical condition, you will have to jump through hoops, provide test results, and you often have to wait for approval. That's a hassle with which I am all too familiar.

Long time readers of this blog know that in 2008 my 2nd class medical certificate was revoked for a year after I experienced a disqualifying medical episode. The FAA's revocation was explicit and, it seemed to me, a bit rude. After all, I had voluntarily reported my situation, I had done the right thing, I was following the rules. The thing is, many pilots don't like to follow the regs and that likely explains the FAA's serious tone.

Several pilots emailed me or commented on by blog suggesting I was foolish for telling the FAA. Some suggested I should have just kept it to myself rather than blog about the experience. Another told me I should have just monitored my own condition, made my own decisions about my fitness for flight, that I should have been the judge, stuff in that vein. My ability to earn an income was significantly hampered until the FAA granted a special issuance 2nd class medical certificate. Based on this experience, some might think that I'd be strongly in favor of what AOPA is advocating. In point of fact, I'm not.

Medical certification is an important part of aviation safety even if many pilots choose to keep their medical problems to themselves rather than risk being grounded. Some might say the FAA 3rd class medical exam is perfunctory and ineffective, but the applicant must fill out a medical history questionnaire. Falsifying or misrepresenting that medical history is serious business. The safeguards against drivers with medical problems is potentially even more problematic. In California, Health and Safety Code Section 103900 requires the treating physician to report a driver's health problems. If a driver chooses not to be treated or doesn't reveal a problem to their physician, it would seem that no one would be the wiser. And drivers are not required to undergo regular physical exams.

In light of AOPA's support of the NextGen initiative to increase aviation safety and utility, it's odd they would, at the same time, be arguing to implement what could very well become a sort of "Don't ask, Don't tell" policy. AOPA's proposal would have us flying in a world where pilots who have potentially serious medical problems could act as PIC without a medical history or regular check-ups and status reports. The importance of addressing and dealing with medical issues would be further minimized and the status quo of sweeping things under the rug would be maintained. If AOPA's constant clamoring for a driver's license medical certificate isn't about safety, perhaps it's about more potential AOPA members. More members, more money.

This brings me to the late Doug Johnson, Lt. Col. USAF (Ret.), whom I met while teaching at the Alameda Aero Club. Doug founded the flying club and he continued to be its driving force after the Alameda NAS was closed and the club moved to Oakland. Doug was plainspoken and when ladies weren't present, Doug could curse a blue streak. And all of this was put forth in an Arkansas drawl that'd make you think you were standing in front of a ribald version of Foghorn Leghorn. Doug had been a B17 captain during WWII and survived his share of bombing missions. He had plenty of opinions on most any topic you could come up with. In short, Doug was larger that life.


Doug was always hanging around the airport, but I never saw him go flying. I asked him why and he explained that one day, driving to the airport, he'd woken up, shaken but uninjured, with his car in a ditch. After a slew of medical tests with no conclusive results, Doug made his choice. "Boywah" he'd said, "That day forward, I couldn't go flyin' without 'nother pilot on board. What if it happened again, with ma wife onboard? What if an innocent person on the ground got killed 'cause of me?" The doctors said it was okay for Doug to drive, and drive he did, but I suspect if Doug were alive today and he heard about AOPA's proposal, he'd be all over them like white on rice.

If you've lost your medical certificate, if you're unable to fly under sport pilot rules, I understand that being grounded sucks. I hated it the first time it happened to me and I know that at some point (hopefully in the distant future) I may very well be grounded again. All pilots need to remember that each one of us may have to give up being PIC. It may not be popular to say, but a time will come when our love of flying must be overshadowed by the safety of those around us and the loved ones who fly with us.

Privileged to Fly

The beginning of the New Year is a time when many of us look back, take stock of what's happened, and look forward. There are other important dates, anniversaries, birthdays, graduations, deaths. Some prominent dates for pilots include the expiration of their flight review and their medical certificate. If you're over 40 years of age or if you hold a 1st or 2nd class medical, you get used to your medical certificate expiring more often. If you've ever had your medical certificate denied or revoked, the medical expiration date takes on even more significance, reminding you how precious our flying privileges are.

It's been nearly one year since I was awarded a special issuance 2nd class medical certificate after waiting out a one year "recovery" period. A lot has happened in the intervening months.

I'm 25 pounds lighter, within the "average" Body Mass Index for my height.

My total cholesterol dropped over 45 points and my HDL/LDL readjusted to levels considered healthy, all without taking statins. Diet and exercise worked for me. Being mostly vegetarian to start with, the key seemed to be giving up cheese and most milk products, though I still occasionally partake.

In the last year I logged just under 500 hours compared with 210 hours during my year sans medical certificate. And if you're wondering if it is legal for an instructor to teach without a medical, the answer is "yes," you just can't do so in situations that require you to act as pilot-in-command.

The most fun in the last year was flying a C441 Conquest for a few hours, doing aerial survey. Flying in the flight levels in pressurized, climate-controlled comfort, above the weather, at 280+ knots - what's not to like? The aerial survey part was tedious and tiring, but still.

Other miscellaneous statistics:
Candidates recommended - 1 private, 1 commercial, 1 instrument, 1 CFI
Wings flights given - 9
Flight Reviews given - 8
Instrument Proficiency Checks given - 5
Types of aircraft flown - 12

The clouds on my horizon have to do with renewing my special issuance certificate, which is only good for 12 calendar months: It does not revert to a 3rd class after a year. The letter I received from the FAA last year explained what was required for renewal, so I started the process in July. There were delays in getting the required examination, but by the last week of August I had the doctor's report. By the way, these reports have to be current within 60 days of the day you apply for a medical certificate.

I promptly faxed the doctor's favorable report to the FAA's medical certification folks, waited 10 days, and then called to see where things stood. The good news is they received the report, the bad news is they can't guarantee they'll be able to review it before the end of September. So rather than waiting for a letter that would give my medical examiner permission to issue a certificate after performing the required exam, I chose to get the exam knowing it would be deferred back to the FAA in Oklahoma City. The exam went well, I learned I was a couple of pounds lighter, with a low resting pulse rate and normal blood pressure. Now all the paperwork is in the FAA's hands and all I can do is wait.

Several people have expressed and continue to express incredulity that I reported the medical problem to the FAA in the first place. We live in a culture that tells us we don't have to play by the rules as long as we don't get caught and in a hyper-competitive environment, it's natural to look for ways to get ahead. One way is to opt out and the thought process, to the extent that higher-level thought actually takes place, goes something like this: "These rules/regulations/laws are really inconvenient/outdated/stupid. I'm really smart/savvy/well-educated and I know better, so I'm just going to do what I want or think is best." One colleague told tell me they respected me for choosing to disclose what happened and that they thought it took guts. That meant a lot to me.

My hope is that I will get a new medical certificate before my current certificate expires at the end of September. I have called Oklahoma City a few times and will call once a week until this is resolved. When I informed the last person I spoke with that I need a medical certificate in order to work, they seemed unmoved. I'm just a one of many cases they have to sort through. Next year, my hope is that I will be allowed to return to a normal medical issuance process and we all live for hope.

Don't wait for New Year's Eve to take stock of what's happen or think ahead to the future. Just sit down with your logbook, look back through the pages, count the landings, the aircraft flown, recall the people who flew with you, the aircraft check-outs, and the check rides. Make plans for your flying future. Get a tailwheel endorsement, earn a new certificate or rating, share the joy of flight with a friend, split safety pilot duties with another instrument pilot, or transport an ill child to their chemotherapy treatment. The world is your oyster when you have the privilege to fly.

A Human Matter

I have a habit of talking to my dogs in complete sentences and even though I don't believe my dogs actually understand every word I say, it's a practice I've continued with our two latest Basenji, Taz and Rio. When I need to, say, use power tools and they are inquisitive, I explain that what I'm doing is a human matter, not a canine concern. Based on their behavior, they seem to understand at least a few of my words or perhaps they understand based on the tone of my voice or my posture. In any event, they usually leave and go about their canine business while I attend to human matters. We humans have a tradition of helping others in need and that is the human matter on my mind today.

If you've been involved in general aviation in the San Francisco Bay Area, you've probably met or have heard of Gi Hak Bae. Gi (pronounced "Gee") has worked for years as flight instructor. Gi is not only a knowledgeable, skillful, and successful teacher, his thoughtful and patient approach has provided a role model for other pilots and instructors. The trite expressions "actions speak louder than words" and "do unto others?" That's how Gi conducts himself, in and outside of aviation. Gi walks his talk.

Such subtleties are often lost, on Americans in particular, so I'll offer just one example. Preparing to depart Hayward one day with a student, I noticed that Gi was about to do the same in an aircraft just across the row. The procedure at Hayward is to pull light aircraft out of their parking spaces into the taxi lane by hand, then perform the engine start. I was about to suggest to my student that we wait for Gi, since he and his student had been there first' when I noticed that Gi had already seen the conflict and had found a solution. Instead of rushing to be the first to pull out their aircraft, Gi and his student were pushing their plane backward through an empty parking spot into an adjacent taxi lane. Problem solved, no rushing, no pushing or shoving, no "Me first!"

Gi was recently diagnosed with a pancreatic tumor and like many self-employed pilots and flight instructors, he doesn't have health insurance. To make matters worse, Gi's illness has forced him to stop working. After giving so much to general aviation, Gi needs our help.

California Airways will be hosting a fund raising gathering on Saturday, February 27 from 11:00-2:00 to help defray some of Gi's medical bills. If you're a Bay Area pilot, please stop by. You can enjoy a burger or have some chicken while visiting with other pilots and friends whose lives Gi has touched. If you can't make the fundraiser, consider sending a check to Gi Hak Bae, in care of California Airways, 22693 Hesperian Blvd, #220, Hayward, CA 94541.

This is definitely a human matter.

It's Official

In Thursday's mail, I found a letter from the FAA containing a special issuance 3rd class medical certificate. So as of Thursday, it was once again legal for me to be pilot-in-command. Then in Saturday's mail, I found another letter from the FAA containing a 2nd class medical certificate, which superseded the previous letter and medical certificate. So why did the FAA send me two medical certificates?

The first package of material that I sent to the FAA contained a neurologist's report on my latest exam. The latest exam was described as "unremarkable" and noted that subsequent TGA episodes were unlikely. My understanding was that before the FAA could rule on this report, they would need to also have my application for a new medical certificate (deferred to them by my local AME).

Turns out the FAA, based on my doctor's report, decided to give me a special issuance 3rd class medical that would be good until October 31st of this year. That would have been the same expiration date of my old medical that was revoked last December. After they sent that letter, they must have received the application for a 2nd class medical that my AME referred to them. So the FAA approved a special issuance 2nd class medical, in short order, and sent it out with another letter.

Pilots who are working to get approval for a medical certificate application that has been referred to Oklahoma City are usually told to expect a three to six week turnaround. It appears my case was reviewed in a matter of days, possibly a matter of hours for all I know. At any rate, it was quick. I think part of this credit goes to the doctors and staff at Virtual Flight Surgeons, who I had chosen to represent my case. Credit is also due to my local AME for seeing me on short notice and promptly getting the paperwork to the FAA. I've been known to be critical of the FAA, so let the record show that I'm very grateful to all involved for the expeditious handling of my case.

To Be or Not To Be
For the last 11 months, being without a medical certificate, I could act as pilot in command, but I couldn't be pilot in command. The legal distinction is a bit tricky, but here is how I understand it. One can act as PIC of an aircraft if one holds a pilot's certificate for the category and class of aircraft in question. Acting as PIC means you can be the sole manipulator of the controls, but it doesn't necessarily mean you can fulfill the role of a required crew member. To be PIC (and to have legal responsibility for the aircraft and the operation), you must also possess a valid medical certificate for the type of operation and meet all the other currency requirements.

So without a valid medical certificate, I was unable to act as a safety pilot for a pilot wearing a view limiting device (used to simulate instrument conditions). Since I tended do a lot of instrument instruction, that took a big bite out of my income. Sometimes these legal distinctions sound a bit like a Marx Brothers routine, but that's the regulatory world that we pilots live and fly in. So as my wife has been known to say to me: "Get used to it!"

Back in the Saddle

My first flight as PIC occurred tonight, solo, and mostly at night. A pilot I used to fly with regularly had graciously offered me the use of his twin Grumman for my first flight as PIC in nearly a year. My mission was to do some maneuvers and return 60 minutes after sunset so I could do three stop-and-go landings and reset my multi-engine currency.

I didn't expect to feel apprehensive before this flight, but that's exactly how I felt. After a few minutes aloft, I settled into the usual rhythm and enjoyed a beautiful sunset while I flew a selection of commercial multi-engine maneuvers. In the end, it felt great to be PIC again and I had a renewed appreciation of what it means to be a pilot.

Morality Aside
More than one person has asked me if I had it to do over again, knowing what I know now, would I tell the FAA about my medical problem. My answer is an unequivocal "Yes!" Let me be clear that I don't have a halo over my head, just because I did what the regulations required me to do. As I said right after my TGA event, I have always advocated for general aviation safety and telling the FAA about my problem was the obvious, correct choice. Sure the results of doing the right thing were uncomfortable, troubling, inconvenient, and expensive but the thing is, I knew it was the right thing to do. In fact, I think that each of us usually knows what the morally and ethically correct course of action is, even if society tells us that lying is okay.

Let's face it, we are constantly being told (directly and indirectly) that lying is okay, especially when it is expedient, offers us a personal advantage, and there's a good chance we won't get caught. Here's an interesting quote from an article I was referred to recently.

Lies are often much more plausible, more appealing to reason, than reality, since the liar has the great advantage of knowing beforehand what the audience wishes or expects to hear.

Hannah Arendt

Part of the problem is the widespread acceptance of naive realism, which basically says "Hey, I'm being reasonable. It's the FAA (or substitute your favorite organization) who is being unreasonable." After all, who knows better than each of us what is correct? Indeed!

The truth is that I'm not an expert in neurology. I could always claim to be an expert and to know more than I know, but is it really unreasonable to be told to wait a year without a recurrence of symptoms before being granted a medical certificate? I don't think so.

AFGO

That stands for Another Fine Growth Opportunity, though there is a more ribald version. So what did I learn and how did I grow? Well, actually, I shrank. Having lots of time off allowed me to exercise and concentrate on my diet. That resulted in a loss of more than 20 pounds and three inches off my waistline.

After my TGA incident, my primary care doctor looked at my lipid blood panel and became concerned with my cholesterol, which was on the high side of normal. The suggestion was that I begin statin therapy, but I was adamant that the first thing to try was a change in diet and exercise due to studies that have linked statin use to cognitive impairment. 11 months later, a new lipid panel showed nearly a 40 point drop in my total cholesterol and a healthy readjustment to my HDL, LDL, and triglyceride levels.

A Matter of Time
Jim, also known as Doctor ATP, learned about my predicament and wrote me to tell me about the first time he lost his medical certificate. By describing his trials and tribulations, and he's had a bunch, Jim gave me a new perspective on just how precious a gift it is to be a pilot. It's a tremendous privilege to fly an aircraft and though you might not want to hear this, it's only a matter of time before each of us reaches a tipping point. We can deny facts and lie to ourselves, or we can embrace our situation, come to grips with our mortality, and develop a daily appreciation of what we have before we lose it.

Jim continues to be an inspiration as he once again is facing medical problems and the thorny issue of mortality in a head-on fashion. I recommend you go read about Jim's situation and his approach to problems that most of us can't even imagine. And while you're there, why not leave him a few words of encouragement?

Falling Leaves

Summer never really seemed to come to my neighborhood this year and though there were a few truly hot days, they've been quickly forgotten. Walking the dogs this afternoon, the air was thick was the unmistakable feeling of autumn. Undeterred by the cold, onshore sea breeze, I have defiantly worn, and continue to wear, shorts. I'll admit I usually find the need of a sweater, too. This year saw more overcast skies than I can remember since moving to Berkeley over 13 years ago and to the Bay Area nearly 25 years ago. We had rainfall in June - a rare event - and so I don't think it's just me.

Impending change has been borne out by our vegetable gardens. Tomatoes and strawberries never really came into their own. The kale and eggplant, thriving in cool weather, are growing like weeds. Even the kids playing in the park know that summer has begun to lay down. Their hoots and hollers, not entirely drained of enthusiasm, are noticeably tinged with melancholy. Still savoring freedom and green grass, knowing it will soon give way to fidgeting under fluorescent light, constrained by rules, rain, and the teacher's droning.

Maybe my perception of the seasons is what has changed. Without an FAA medical certificate for over 10 months, I've done a lot less flying and teaching, spending more time on the ground looking up. This time last year, the opposite was true: I was often on top of those clouds. I tell myself it's been interesting, a growth experience, that I did the right thing, made the complex choice by telling the FAA about my medical issue. We Americans are in love with easy and you can usually tell you've done the right thing because the consequences are seldom simple or easy.

In October I expect to be found qualified to once again hold an FAA medical certificate, having fulfilled the one-year "recovery" period mandated by the folks in Oklahoma City. October is also when I renew my flight instructor certificate. Since I've done a lot less teaching and recommended few pilots for practical tests, I can't renew my instructor certificate based on my activity as an instructor. So while the kids outside play tug-of-war with the last scraps of summer, I lead the way to the classroom, fidgeting in front of my computer, completing an on-line Flight Instructor Refresher Clinic.

The forecasters predict an El Nino year where warmer than usual waters in the Pacific Ocean feed large amounts of moisture into the atmosphere. The jet stream will find its wandering way down from the North and if the weather forecasters are correct, the winds will well up from the Southwest, scoop up moisture from the warm Pacific, and pelt us Californians with steady, unrelenting rain, maybe some snow. And at some point, in October or November, I plan to glimpse the inside of one of those rain clouds, inside a fragile aluminum cocoon, hand resting lightly on the yoke. With a student or perhaps by myself, but once again pilot-in-command because autumn is coming.

Turbulence Ahead

You don't have to look far these days to find people whose primary and exclusive motivation in life is self-interest. In the US, we are constantly bombarded by reports of greedy individuals who seem to require millions and millions of dollars every year to support their lifestyles. And once they acquire significant wealth, it's still not enough.

I'm all for encouraging people to be self-reliant, but instilling future generations with a desire to take care of themselves and their families need not preclude an appreciation and respect of shared needs and interests. There's nothing like an economic downturn to help people realize how interconnected we all are: If large numbers of us fail to prosper, everyone suffers. We may try to hide, figuratively by ignoring what is happening, or literally by living behind walls and gates, but we're better off facing facts.

It doesn't take an economic downturn to help one realize that general aviation is a ridiculously impractical activity. We spend a lot of money to create aircraft that will safely get us airborne. Then we spend a lot of money acquiring those aircraft or gaining access to them. Some of us spend even more money, along with a lot of time and effort, to learn how to fly those aircraft. The aircraft themselves consume a lot of our time and energy. They make a lot of noise, sometimes for the purpose of travel but often times for the sole purpose of just getting us up in the air.

For all its warts, general aviation is one of the few remaining activities in contemporary society where people come together out of shared interest. Trying to fly on our own is just not economically feasible for most of us. We join flying clubs or rent aircraft as way to disperse the cost and in the process, we get the opportunity to fly and to mingle with other pilots. Aviation draws people together who often have very little in common. We may have different views on life and were it not for our love of flying, we otherwise would not have come in contact. And yet that is precisely what a community is: A group of people with diverse views who cast their lot together to make a better life, not just for themselves, but for everyone in the group.

The effects of the economic downturn have not been lost on general aviation. The effects have been probably greater on general aviation than other sectors precisely because the activity is so implausible to begin with. Fewer people are flying fewer hours. Many pilots I know are trying to walk a fine line between saving money and maintaining currency and proficiency. The good news is that the price of avgas has dropped dramatically and that helps a little.

My own situation was made worse by the recent loss of my medical certificate, which has significantly reduced my teaching schedule by limiting the kinds of instruction I can provide. On a positive note, I received official notification from the FAA medical certification folks that I may reapply after a one year waiting period. And for those who have been wondering, I feel fine and all signs point to my problem as being a one-time freak event. My thanks to the folks at Virtual Flight Surgeons, Inc. for their assistance in facilitating the entire process. Two months down, ten months left to go.

As a professional flight instructor, my future has always been a bit uncertain. I'm already being challenged by this double-whammy of temporarily losing my medical right when an economic recession has unfolded. Some of my friends just assumed that I'd throw in the towel and look for a non-aviation job. I've been providing a lot of simulator training and am fortunate to have a few commercial pilot candidates and some flight instructor candidates, too. So my plan for the future is to stay the course.

Tough times can bring out the best in us, or the worst. A lot depends on how we approach the challenge. Flying in turbulence or bad weather can stress even the most accomplished pilots and in that stress, we learn about ourselves. We might not like everything we discover, but stress often reveals the kind of cloth from which we are cut. If we acknowledge and recognize our shortcomings, there is much we can learn. We might even discover that we're more resilient that we first thought, that we can live without a new car every few years, or many of the other trappings our consumer society tells us we absolutely must have.

I know that many people have lost their jobs or are worried about losing their jobs. I have friends who are working reduced hours and taking pay cuts. While things will undoubtedly be tough, life will go on. I'm optimistic that we will come out the other side of this economic storm. In the mean time, we have the opportunity to learn once again that in a country that idolizes the individual, we are more together than the sum of our parts.

Making Waves

On Friday, I was up at 4am after going to bed at midnight. In the quiet darkness, I was reminded of my freight flying days, but there was no early show-time today. The goal was to stay awake until 10am for an Electro Encephalogram or EEG. I could eat breakfast, but no coffee was allowed.

My wife drove me to the hospital, we found the neurology department and we waited. Looking around the waiting room, I got the feeling that there were some seriously ill people there. Was I one of them? I was hopeful that this test would, if not give me a clean bill of health, at least rule out the things dreaded and dreadful.

The EEG technician's job was made easier by my choice of hair style, or should I say scalp style? She carefully measured my skull with a small tape measure, marking spots with a red pen that she assured me contained water-soluble ink. The character of the ink was the least of my worries. After several minutes of measuring, she began applying the electrodes - somewhere around 25 total.

Seated in a comfortable reclining chair in the darkened room, I began to drift off into a light sleep, vaguely aware of the light dab of gel and the press of each electrode as it was attached. One electrode was placed just below the orbit of each of my eyes to measure eye movement. Another was placed on chest to measure heart rate. Lastly, everything was held is place by a wrapping of a light, elastic gauze and the test began.

I opened and closed my eyes on command. With my eyes closed, I began the three minutes of deep breathing I was told to expect. The technician explained to me that the goal was to get me hyperventilated and what sorts of sensations I should expect - tingling around the mouth and in my fingers, lightheadedness. I wanted to tell her that as a flight instructor I was familiar with the effects of hyperventilation and other aeromedical factors, but just kept breathing.

With my eyes closed, an array of LEDs was placed near my face and at regular intervals it began flashing. The frequency of the flashing was slow at first, it would pause for several seconds, and begin again. Each time the flashing resumed, it was at a higher frequency, gradually increasing to a rapid, strobing pace. The flashing reminded me of sitting in an aircraft with the engine idling, facing west, awaiting takeoff into the setting sun. I thought about how it was discovered that some World War I pilots were susceptible to flicker-induced seizures and how leaving aircraft anti-collision lights on while flying in the clouds at night can induce vertigo.

The flashing stopped and it was time to take a nap. I wanted to sleep, but I heard the click-clack of shoes on linoleum tile in the hallway, the light tapping of the technician occasionally entering something into the computer, the sound of the the air moving into the room through the vents in the ceiling ... And then there was a tap on my shoulder. I had dozed off and the test was done.

As the electrodes were removed, one by one, I just wanted a good cup of coffee at Cafe Trieste. The technician told me to expect the results early next week. I couldn't mask my disappointment. I explained that I couldn't drive or work, even on a limited basis, until I had the results. She shrugged and then, as if telling me the latest gossip, she leaned forward, winked and whispered "It looks fine."

To my surprise, I received an email early Friday evening saying I could view new test results on line. I logged on and found a message for the neurologist. She had worked a bit late on a Friday to review the test and send me the words I wanted to read: "EEG normal, it's okay to drive ..."

Newspaper, Telephone, Flower

I found myself walking through the front door of my house at 5:30pm yesterday, not remembering where I'd been. In actuality, I'd just walked two blocks from the new circuit-training fitness center when I had done a trial workout. The thing is, I only remembered the first two-thirds of the circuit. I didn't remember walking home and a lot of other recent details were pretty fuzzy. A trip to the ER was clearly in order and my wife drove while I slowly downed a couple of liters of electrolyte. I felt light-headed and dopey, but slowly began to feel better.

I felt well enough to be dropped off at the entrance, to walk through the security screening by myself, and to tell the triage nurse my complaint: There were 15 minutes of the last hour of which I had no recollection. Even as the words were coming out of my mouth I couldn't believe I was saying them.

No offense to anyone out there who works in the health care profession, but I hate hospitals. I've watched my mom and two sisters slowly waste away in hospitals while the world shimmered just outside the window. Just being in a hospital gives me the creeps. Nevertheless, the ER staff was friendly, courteous, and on top of their game.

Within minutes I was hooked up to an EKG, breathing oxygen, and unsure what was going to happen next. A CT scan of my brain, a chest x-ray, an EKG, and preliminary blood tests revealed ... nothing. And I was feeling better and better as my sensorium became clearer. Within an hour, I felt like my old self, with one, new, sinking realization: The FAA medical certificate in my wallet was toast. It was like a switch had been thrown and I was no longer fit to be pilot-in-command. And it was clear that the ramifications of this event were lost on the doctor and staff.

After three hours, all subsequent tests had come back as "normal" and I went home with a diagnosis that really didn't seem like a diagnosis: Transient Global Amnesia. A rare syndrome that usually occurs in adults over age 56, TGA is idiopathic - the underlying cause is not known. The vast majority of people who experience a TGA episode have no recurrence in their lifetime. There are no long-term adverse effects, no course of treatment, no medications, nothing to do, no action to take. Understandably, the FAA doesn't like events for which there is no clear cause and getting a new medical certificate will require up to 2 years.

Yet for being so benign, experiencing a TGA is decidedly unsettling. It's odd to not remember part of your day and it's oh so easy to imagine that you must have some sort of serious disease - a brain tumor, vascular problem, the nightmare list goes on and on. You just have to trust that the EKG, CT scan, xray, blood tests all attest to your health. Of course, there are more tests.

Today I visit the neurologist after the appointment desk calls me at 8am, an amazingly prompt response since I was just in the ER last night. My wife drives me to the doctor's office, I register at the desk and have my blood pressure taken. The doctor arrives and she's friendly, but no-nonsense. She asks me, among other things, to repeat three words - newspaper, telephone, flower. She has me repeat them three times and says she'll ask me to repeat them again in a few minutes.

I count backward from 100 by 7. I spell "world" backwards and duplicate her drawing of two simple hexagons. I draw the face of a clock, including all the numbers and draw the hands showing 10 minutes to 8. I tell her where I am, the name of the building, the city, county, state and country. I tell her the date and day of the week, who's president and the past presidents going back three-plus decades, carefully distinguishing between George W. Bush and George H. W. Bush.

I touch my right thumb to my left ear. I follow her moving finger with my eyes. I stand with my eyes closed and my feet close together. I walk heel-to-toe. With my eyes closed, she draws the outline of numbers on my upturned palms and I tell her what the numbers are. She examines my retinae, tests my pupillary response to light, tests the strength of my muscles and all of my reflexes. I say "ahh," then squint, then smile on command. I'm anxious, but after several minutes, I still remember "newspaper, telephone, flower."

A few more tests need to be done, but two things are clear: I'm apparently healthy and my day-to-day life has dramatically changed. How will I earn a living? With whom will my students train now that they can't train with me? Three days ago I demonstrated flying an ILS approach down to minima to ATP standards in turbulence and 25 knot, gusting winds. Today, and for the immediate future, I'm grounded with many questions left unanswered.

Once again, the shimmering, fleeting quality of life comes clearly into focus.