My FAA medical certificate expired at the end of August. Dang, has it been a year already? I don’t know about the rest of you, but 2009 has flown by, no pun intended.
I used to worry about taking my annual physical exam. We all do. It’s one of the few times during the year in which we could lose our ability to do something we love (not to mention that particular something is what puts food on the table). I’ve written about this before, a couple of years ago. Elevated blood sugar? “YER OUTTA HERE!” Diabetes doesn’t “fly” with the FAA. High blood pressure? Here, take this medicine FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. We all like to think that we’re reasonably healthy, so no one wants either of those two things to happen.
I’ve been going to the same doctor for years and years now. Not that he knows me, only seeing me once every twelve months but he, his office and his staff are all familiar to me. It’s comfortable. I went in, filled out the form, hung around for an hour or so being poked and prodded and measured while chatting with the PA’s and finally the good doctor himself. After the necessary scrutiny, they handed me the sought-after form and I’m good to go for another twelve months.
Today’s exam was a piece o’cake. Makes me wonder why I sweated these things for so long? I guess as I get older, the less stressful it is to be poked and prodded. (Okay, if I'm being honest, there was one poke - or maybe it was a prod - that was not much fun. I won't go into details.)