In order to fly solo, you must pass an Aviation Medical Exam.  The exam is designed less to determine how healthy you are, than to determine how safe you are to fly.  I had heard horror stories of long waitlists to get one of these exams, so decided to start the process early.  I turned to my constant friend, Google, to start the process.  Here is how I got a clean bill of health, er, safety:

I began by entering some search criteria into Google:  FAA medical aviation exam (etc).  I arrived here:  http://www.faa.gov/pilots/become, and took note of the links for medical certification.  I filled out FAA Form 8500-8 online and submitted it.  I then searched for a medical examiner in through the FAA list.  The first person I tried in the DC area was busy until January.  My worst fears began to surface.  They were quickly assuaged, however, when the receptionist suggested another doctor in the office.  I took the first appointment:  Friday afternoon, just a week away. 

Practically chortling with glee, I reported the good news to a couple of friends. 

“Good for you,” said one.  “I hope you pass.”  (Well, of course I would pass, wouldn’t I?)

“It’s no big deal,” said another.  “It’s really just the eyes that matter.”  Oh. Boy.

Let’s just say I’ve been wearing glasses and contacts for a long time.  Each eye exam usually concludes with some ominous warning about my vision that portends great wealth for the optometrist community.  I haven’t had my eyes checked in over a year – though was planning to do that in January.   

I arrived at Capital Pulmonary International in time to dutifully hand in my completed 8500-8.  After a nurse took my blood pressure, weight, and height, Dr. Brian Turrisi came in.  He asked me the following questions:

“What got you into flying?” (I gave my usual spiel). 

“How many times have you been up?” (Just once)

“You know, you don’t need this until you are ready to fly solo, right?”  (Yes, but I thought I should find out if there’s any problem now so I can get it figured out by the time I will fly solo.)

“I like that you are thinking ahead.  That tells me something about you already.  You know, that is a good attribute in a pilot.”  (Thank you) 

“Every year, we try to figure out why there are more incursions and fatalities among private that professional pilots.  I think much of it has to do with training, and the way you approach flying – are you thinking ahead.”  (Does this enviable foresight get me out of the vision exam?)

“Well, how I got into flying. . .” he elaborated on his college years and flying lessons.  (Wait.  When does the medical part start?) 

Dr. Turrisi managed to complete most of my exam while explaining his opinions on flying, aircraft, and most importantly, stalls. 

“Now, even if you don’t have a problem with motion sickness, going through a stall might cause you to feel unwell, and probably throw-up,” he said while probing my abdomen. “But don’t let this deter you.  Just keep practicing, and your body will adapt.  Don’t give up, because it’s right after the stalls that the really fun part starts.”  (I promised to keep this in mind.)  Note to self:  people who become pilots tend to be avid to the verge of fanatical about flying.  Will this be me in a year?

The same nurse who took my vitals came back to administer the eye exam.  First up: peripheral vision.  She moved a rod over a piece of dark felt on the wall, and I had to say when I saw the small white dot at the end of the rod appear.  Piece of cake.  Next:  color blind test.  I read out the colored numbers.  So far, so good.  Finally, regular vision.  Eyes together: check.  Right eye: check.  Left eye: hold on.  The nurse goes to check the score I have to get (20/30).  “Let’s try this again with letters,” she suggests.  I stand there in the hallway staring at the letters on the chart that somehow now represent my ability to ascend to the heavens.  Several precarious minutes later, I go out to the waiting room.  I wait. 

Dr. Turrisi comes out, looking less jovial than when he was prodding me and talking about flying. 

He sits down.

Pause.

“OK.”  (OK what?!)

Slowly pulls out a piece of paper.

“So, how this works – ”

“Wait – so, I passed?”

“Yes, you passed.”

Victory.

I signed a little square on the paper, under Dr. Turrisi’s signature, which I later clipped out, folded, and put in my wallet.  Dr. Turrisi wishes me well, and tells me I’m welcome to call him with any flight related questions.  We shook hands.  I could have hugged him I was so relieved.

I’m safe to fly.  But I think I’ll get my eyes checked in the near future, just to be on the safe side.