by
Darryl Phillips
I went for my aviation medical examination this week. The good news is that I passed. Even so, it's a grueling experience that I would rather avoid.
My AME had moved his practice since my visit two years ago, so the first step was a multipage form required of all new patients. From my perspective, I was the building that was new, not me, but that argument didn't make any points with the unyielding young lady at the front desk. Nevermind that I was only there for an FAA exam, the form was written to cover any situation. I refuse to answer most of that hogwash. Whether I'm enrolling in an occasional college night class or opening an account or getting my physical, when I deem a question irrelevant or too personal I just don't answer it.
But flying is very special, and if I make the wrong impression some damn bureaucrat could take flight away from me, perhaps for the rest of my life. Like joking about suitcase bombs as you walk through the security gate in the airline terminal, there are times when freedom of speech can get in the way of freedom of body and soul. I'm told it's called discretion. But discretion sounds a lot like something my kindergarten teacher called number two.
As I tried to answer the questions, my internal pressure was rising. It's not fair to submit me to questions that could rob me of flight, and then immediately take my blood pressure.
I kept telling myself to cool it, don't tell them what you really think about this invasion of privacy. But I couldn't do it. The first question on medical history was "Describe the reason for this visit". That one was easy, I simply wrote "FAA physical exam".
Question two asked "How long has this condition persisted?" To which I just had to put down "As long as the FAA has existed".
It went on from there, you get the idea. Some reasonable questions, some I refused to answer, and a few that I just couldn't walk away from. One asked "How many times each night do your kidneys act?" I replied "Dumb question. Kidneys are like lungs, hopefully they act all night long."
Am I trusting my flying future to some AME who doesn't know a kidney from a bladder? Let me outta here!
Of course I refused to give any insurance information. FAA exams aren't covered by insurance anyway, and I'm certainly not going to provide the link between the doctors who treat me when I'm ill and doctors that issue medical certificates.
In due course I was ushered into the tiny examination room and given the official FAA medical form to answer. I know not to monkey around with this one. This is important stuff. Any arthritic diabetic greatgrandmother can drive her two ton sedan at high speed within inches of a loaded school bus with no medical exam. But pilots are special.
Once, many years ago, I flunked the urine test. It was one of those things, my teenage daughter had made a large batch of fudge and I had pigged out all weekend, then went for my exam the next day. I won't do that again. Ever since, I avoid anything that contains sugar for several days prior to the examination. I'm even wary of anything that looks like it might have sat on the grocery store shelf next to something containing sugar. Fudge is good, flying is better.
The exam followed the usual routine. I've learned to ask how far the eye chart will be held in front of my nose, so I know which pair of glasses to put on. Fortunately, I can still read the copyright notice at the bottom of the chart at 20 feet. But up close, the years are beginning to show. There is no rule against bringing several pairs of glasses.
After the usual tests, I passed. I exchanged a chunk of my bank balance for a little slip of government bureaucracy paper, and I'm legal for two more years.
Do you know why we have flight physicals at all? Like so much in aviation, the medical exam has a military background. In the early days of aviation, there were many more flying applicants than could be accepted, and a stringent physical exam was a bureaucratic way to weed most of them out. Perhaps it made sense for the military, but a system designed to keep most citizens from enjoying the freedom of flight is a bad system.
That tidbit was gleaned from THE PILOT'S MEDICAL ADVISOR - A Guide to Obtaining and Keeping Your Medical Certificate, by Dr. Ian Blair Fries. I highly recommend this 300-plus page book to all pilots. Read it BEFORE you take the medical exam. As an active AME and Malibu driver, Dr. Fries knows whereof he speaks. He gives dozens of examples of just how absurd the tests are. (For instance, colorblindness is mostly inherited. So why do we have to take the test each time? Ever heard of anyone who went colorblind?) The book covers the exam, special issuance conditions, and a hundred pages of commonly asked questions and answers from Aging and Allergies to Ulcers and Vision. It gives valuable information on how to succeed if you have a borderline condition.
The full text of the official FAA Guide for Medical Examiners is included. Don't take the word of someone who writes a column, or even someone who writes a book. The actual requirements, as set down by Oklahoma City, are all here. Also the full text of FAR Part 67, the section of FAA regulations that deals with medical matters. In addition to Part 67, there are requirements that can get you in medical trouble in Parts 61, 91, 121, and 135. All are included.
While $36.95 is steep for a book, keeping that medical certificate is priceless. Available from Belvoir Publications, Box 2626, Greenwich CT 06836.
One more tip: Don't ever, ever, apply for a higher class of medical than you truly need. You can't flunk a first-class and then ask for a second or third. If you fail, you have failed, and obtaining any certificate will be an uphill battle. And for the rest of your natural life you'll have to check the box that you have previously failed. There is no superiority in holding a first-class certificate. If you aren't flying for a living (and in some cases even if you are) all you need is a class three. If you want a real medical checkup, go to a non-AME. He just might find something.
I know a pilot who is totally deaf. I'll call him Jim because that is not his name. Jim has overcome obstacles few of us can imagine. He holds a commercial certificate, and flies for pay. Jim has developed a number of interesting techniques to communicate while aloft. I interviewed him at Sun'n Fun last spring in preparation for a column. I know he is looking forward to seeing his name in print.
But I'm not going to write that story. After all that Bob Hoover has gone through in the fight to retain his medical, the risk to Jim is just too great. Jim has no buddy named F. Lee Bailey. Jim has no distinguished career in the military and in the airshow business for half a century. Bob Hoover has all those advantages, and he lost his battle with the bureaucrats anyway. Now Bob is legal to fly in every country on earth except one. This one.
My deaf friend has his future ahead of him if some bureaucrat doesn't get in the way. Although I would like to tell Jim's story, and he would like me to, the risk is just too great. I will not even use his initials. Somewhere there lurks an FAA low-life who would gladly ground this fine young man. If the bureaucratic scum can get Bob Hoover, they can get any of us. So, friend, I apologize for not writing your story. I have great admiration for what you have achieved, and won't jeopardize your flying career. Here in the land of the free and home of the brave, I am not that brave. It's called discretion.