Some of you may remember my escapade in the clouds shortly after I was able to start flying post-chemo. Well, I did some editing and submitted the story to AOPA (Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association), and the editors there said they would look at it. Many months later, I hadn't heard anything, so I figured they decided not to use my submission, but I asked anyway. Much to my surprise, I was told that AOPA intended to publish my story.
I was slightly disappointed that it wouldn't be published in their print magazine, but it was featured in this week's email newsletter to members. Here's the published version of the story. For the record, I was paid, so I guess that technically makes me a professional published author. That and three bucks can buy me a latte at Starbucks.
Showing posts with label flying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flying. Show all posts
Friday, October 19, 2007
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Whew!
We're back! We had a marvelous time, but things got interesting on the return trip. The weather forecast called for steady rain the entire way from Chicago back to Missouri. Here I was thinking that I could get some actual cloud flying time on the way back. Once we got to Quincy, Illinois, things began to get interesting (see pictures at left). ATC steered us toward Kirksville at first, then down towards Knob Noster and Whiteman AFB. As we headed south another cell of storms started forming to the west, and we skated into Boonville just before those storms hit.
Our last day was a wild swing cuisine-wise. Thursday night we ate at Rick Bayless' Frontera Grill, with some Chiapas-inspired dishes. Friday morning we stopped in trendy Wicker Park for breakfast at Earwax Cafe, where they serve things like Tofu Benedict and Vegetarian Hash. For lunch we grabbed sandwiches from a Corner Bakery around the corner from the hotel before heading for the Gary Chicago airport, via the South Shore line train. We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant in Boonville. Back to normal!
Monday, August 07, 2006
For my next trick
Well, as of noon on Saturday, I'm officially an instrument-rated private pilot. What does that mean, you ask? I suppose it all depends on who you talk to. I can legally punch holes in the clouds now, and the ability to fly through less-than-perfect weather gives me a bit more flexibility when flying long trips. More cynical individuals would say I now have the ability to cause abject terror for my flying passengers in new and exciting ways.
So now what? The Rev. claims that at some point I told her to put the brakes on if I tried to go any further than an instrument rating, but I've been giving thought to a commercial certificate, just to keep learning (and maybe become a flight instructor on the side - I've been told I'm a good teacher).
In the imaginary (aka geek) world, I'm about to graduate from the virtual air traffic control academy and will hopefully be controlling and talking to REAL virtual pilots on the internet (as opposed to SIMULATED virtual pilots on the internet). (The Rev here: 1st, he really did say to remind him to stop after IFR and now he has "conveniently" forgotten; must be the chemo brain at work. 2nd, he never asked my opinion on the virtual geek world stuff. Do any of you have any idea of how far back into my head my eyes have rolled at this??? A hint: I have had the opportunity to count the wrinkles in my gray matter. It's all very X-files: in order to finish his training he is waiting to be "contacted"--I'm expecting to see a big X in the clouds, or duct taped to our driveway or bedroom window...) I have to say though, real piloting and virtual controlling are very complementary - I've learned a lot to help me in the real world. (<--with this have NO complaints.)
Next week I plan to put my new instrument rating to use and fly the Rev. to Chicago for a conference. I've been told that it seems like once you get your instrument rating, you'll never get to use it flying in the soup. We'll see.
So now what? The Rev. claims that at some point I told her to put the brakes on if I tried to go any further than an instrument rating, but I've been giving thought to a commercial certificate, just to keep learning (and maybe become a flight instructor on the side - I've been told I'm a good teacher).
In the imaginary (aka geek) world, I'm about to graduate from the virtual air traffic control academy and will hopefully be controlling and talking to REAL virtual pilots on the internet (as opposed to SIMULATED virtual pilots on the internet). (The Rev here: 1st, he really did say to remind him to stop after IFR and now he has "conveniently" forgotten; must be the chemo brain at work. 2nd, he never asked my opinion on the virtual geek world stuff. Do any of you have any idea of how far back into my head my eyes have rolled at this??? A hint: I have had the opportunity to count the wrinkles in my gray matter. It's all very X-files: in order to finish his training he is waiting to be "contacted"--I'm expecting to see a big X in the clouds, or duct taped to our driveway or bedroom window...) I have to say though, real piloting and virtual controlling are very complementary - I've learned a lot to help me in the real world. (<--with this have NO complaints.)
Next week I plan to put my new instrument rating to use and fly the Rev. to Chicago for a conference. I've been told that it seems like once you get your instrument rating, you'll never get to use it flying in the soup. We'll see.
Friday, May 19, 2006
More fun in CT land
I went back to the Cancer Box for my first post-lung surgery CT scan today. They had me pre-medicate this time because of the hive that continually shows up on my forehead during CTs after the iodine contrast is injected, so I was well-doped up on Benadryl when I came in. Guess what - it didn't help a damned bit, the hive showed up again, and all I got was a sleepless night to add to my cranky morning since I couldn't eat beforehand. Still, I managed to make a new hat for the occasion...
Those are CT contrast bottles taped to my hat, by the way - the smoothie that tastes like artifically flavored berries mixed with dirt in a creamy white base. The proper medical term is "barium sulfate suspension". According to Wikipedia, other uses for barium sulfate include paint pigment (it replaced white lead) and pyrotechnics. Just thought you might like to know. I suppose it could be worse - sometimes the barium sulfate is given by enema rather than orally (usually for colon and small intestine studies).
Anyway, the CT looks good - you can now see staples where the mass used to be. We also got the pathology opinion from IU; they agreed with the local folks that the mass was teratoma and not active cancer. Hot dog! We're back on the surveillance schedule. Like Dr. V. said, it was just a speed bump.
Later in Dr. V.'s exam room, fabulous nurse G. scored me some breakfast from a buffet that had been set up for employees. Eggs and sausage - SWEET! Plus, nurse R. from the chemo room came by and got to satisfy her picking jones by pulling out some suture parts from one of the thoracoscopy ports on my left side (the sutures were popping out and keeping the wound from healing completely). Apparently the nurses all have their own wound fetishes. Nurse G. didn't like the picking at all, but apparently she totally goes wild for pus shooting out of an abcess. OK, that was probably TMI, but welcome to my world.
Afterward, I asked for copies of all my paperwork from this year so far so I can start building my next FAA file. They farmed it out to a woman from the medical records room, who came out with the copies and said something like, "Wow, I actually get to meet Mr. Vinny!" Apparently my hats have made me some sort of legend (in my own mind at least).
OK. It's now time for a nap. Tuesday we meet with the thoracic surgeon so he can look at me and say, "Damn, I do good work!" What I want to know is this: the wedge they pulled out was about 6 x 5 x 2.5 cm (the mass inside was only 1.2 x 1 x 0.9 cm). The ports (i.e., cuts) for the scope are only about 3 cm. How'd they get that chunk out?
Have a great weekend!
Monday, November 14, 2005
Flying High
It's been a good month, especially from a flying perspective. I think I've been making up for lost time while I was undergoing treatment. In the past month, I've flown:
Perhaps the most interesting trip was the one to Kennett. I took my boss down there to speak to a local church after he had agreed to meet with them without knowing exactly where they were located. As it turns out, it would have been a 5-6 hour drive each way, which would have necessitated an overnight stay. Instead, it took about 2 1/4 hours of flying each way. Plus, the cost to use the airplane was less than the reimbursement for the mileage would have been, not to mention the hotel.
The weather has cooperated for nearly all of these flights, save the last one to St. Louis, which had quite a bit of turbulence in the takeoff and landing phases -- enough that both Sarah and I "caught air" when he had a couple of violent losses of altitude (only a few feet). It's a similar feeling to riding in the rear car of a roller coaster and being whipped over the summit of a steep incline.
Now it looks as if some crappy fall/winter weather is settling in. We're planning to fly ourselves down to see my folks for Thanksgiving next week (weather permitting); it will be the first time that all my siblings and their spouses have been together in some time. It may also mark the last time there's any semblance of sanity at a family gathering -- the number of small children may be tripled by this time next year (and no, none of them will be provided by us as far as we know).
I'm also planning a little "exotic" Thanksgiving feast for some folks next week involving Jones Soda. It should be interesting, to say the least, from a culinary standpoint.
- to and from Columbus, Ohio to pick up a second airplane for our flying club;
- to and from Omaha, Nebraska to pick up our church secretary from a family gathering;
- to and from Kennett, Missouri on business;
- to and from St. Louis twice;
- plus a few instrument flying lessons as well.
Perhaps the most interesting trip was the one to Kennett. I took my boss down there to speak to a local church after he had agreed to meet with them without knowing exactly where they were located. As it turns out, it would have been a 5-6 hour drive each way, which would have necessitated an overnight stay. Instead, it took about 2 1/4 hours of flying each way. Plus, the cost to use the airplane was less than the reimbursement for the mileage would have been, not to mention the hotel.
The weather has cooperated for nearly all of these flights, save the last one to St. Louis, which had quite a bit of turbulence in the takeoff and landing phases -- enough that both Sarah and I "caught air" when he had a couple of violent losses of altitude (only a few feet). It's a similar feeling to riding in the rear car of a roller coaster and being whipped over the summit of a steep incline.
Now it looks as if some crappy fall/winter weather is settling in. We're planning to fly ourselves down to see my folks for Thanksgiving next week (weather permitting); it will be the first time that all my siblings and their spouses have been together in some time. It may also mark the last time there's any semblance of sanity at a family gathering -- the number of small children may be tripled by this time next year (and no, none of them will be provided by us as far as we know).
I'm also planning a little "exotic" Thanksgiving feast for some folks next week involving Jones Soda. It should be interesting, to say the least, from a culinary standpoint.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Our bodies lie to us sometimes
It's true. How do I know this, you ask? Well, I had a little bit of unplanned excitement last Friday night that was exacerbated by the lies my body told me.
As you may know, I 'm a pilot. (There's an old joke: How can you tell someone's a pilot? Don't worry, they'll tell you.) Anyway, I was on my own Friday while Sarah and her sister went to St. Louis to see the Indigo Girls. I decided to use some time to get some night flying in (in order to fly passengers at night, I'm required to have completed at least three takeoffs and landings at night in the last 90 days). The weather all day had been scuzzy, with low lying clouds and some rain. However, that night, the weather conditions for nearby airports were reported as clear, so I figured that I'd be okay stying close to the airport and getting my takeoffs and landings done.
Not so, as it turned out. As I took off and started climbing, I was no more than 500 feet above the ground when BOOM! - I couldn't see anything outside. No city lights, no horizon, no nothing. Those clouds are sneaky at night - they're as dark as the rest of the sky. In aviation parlance, I was in Instrument Meteorological Conditions (IMC), which means that you can't fly by looking outside for references. Now this in itself isn't a problem - that's why airplanes have instruments. The problem is that I haven't completed my training to be certified to fly in instrument conditions.
Fortunately, I have received some rudimentary training in instrument flying, and fortunately, some of that training must have taken hold, otherwise I might very well have been in a smoking hole near the airport instead of writing this. What we're taught when going into IMC (whether it's accidental or on purpose) is to stop looking outside and start concentrating on the instruments. Unless there's been a catastrophic system failure, the instruments are your ticket out of this mess.
The problems start when we listen to our bodies instead of trusting the instruments. Without an outside horizon for our eyes to reference, our bodies become quite disoriented because there are no cues available to interpret what our balance organs (the semicircular canals in our inner ear) are perceiving. The results are frequently bad: a small aircraft accident caused by spatial disorientation is fatal nine times out of ten.
So, here I am stuck in the clouds. Airplanes don't have a reverse gear; you can't just back up and get down to the runway the way you left, so that option is out. Meanwhile, I look at the instruments and realize I am in a climbing left turn that is getting quite steep. I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't been checking the instruments. So I straighten the airplane out and start ticking off my landing choices and getting the radios set up. Then I look at the instruments and see that I'm starting a downward spiral (again, my body doesn't know what's going on). Level the airplane. Flying on instruments by yourself really keeps you busy.
I did get back down on the ground safely, after about a half-hour of intense excitement. That was enough flying for one day. I learned the valuable lesson that your body can sometimes deceive you. Be careful!
As you may know, I 'm a pilot. (There's an old joke: How can you tell someone's a pilot? Don't worry, they'll tell you.) Anyway, I was on my own Friday while Sarah and her sister went to St. Louis to see the Indigo Girls. I decided to use some time to get some night flying in (in order to fly passengers at night, I'm required to have completed at least three takeoffs and landings at night in the last 90 days). The weather all day had been scuzzy, with low lying clouds and some rain. However, that night, the weather conditions for nearby airports were reported as clear, so I figured that I'd be okay stying close to the airport and getting my takeoffs and landings done.
Not so, as it turned out. As I took off and started climbing, I was no more than 500 feet above the ground when BOOM! - I couldn't see anything outside. No city lights, no horizon, no nothing. Those clouds are sneaky at night - they're as dark as the rest of the sky. In aviation parlance, I was in Instrument Meteorological Conditions (IMC), which means that you can't fly by looking outside for references. Now this in itself isn't a problem - that's why airplanes have instruments. The problem is that I haven't completed my training to be certified to fly in instrument conditions.
Fortunately, I have received some rudimentary training in instrument flying, and fortunately, some of that training must have taken hold, otherwise I might very well have been in a smoking hole near the airport instead of writing this. What we're taught when going into IMC (whether it's accidental or on purpose) is to stop looking outside and start concentrating on the instruments. Unless there's been a catastrophic system failure, the instruments are your ticket out of this mess.
The problems start when we listen to our bodies instead of trusting the instruments. Without an outside horizon for our eyes to reference, our bodies become quite disoriented because there are no cues available to interpret what our balance organs (the semicircular canals in our inner ear) are perceiving. The results are frequently bad: a small aircraft accident caused by spatial disorientation is fatal nine times out of ten.
So, here I am stuck in the clouds. Airplanes don't have a reverse gear; you can't just back up and get down to the runway the way you left, so that option is out. Meanwhile, I look at the instruments and realize I am in a climbing left turn that is getting quite steep. I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't been checking the instruments. So I straighten the airplane out and start ticking off my landing choices and getting the radios set up. Then I look at the instruments and see that I'm starting a downward spiral (again, my body doesn't know what's going on). Level the airplane. Flying on instruments by yourself really keeps you busy.
I did get back down on the ground safely, after about a half-hour of intense excitement. That was enough flying for one day. I learned the valuable lesson that your body can sometimes deceive you. Be careful!
Thursday, July 21, 2005
IU Redux
Well, I think we've made our last medically related trip to Indianapolis. I like the city, to tell the truth, and I could see myself living there -- there's lots of things to do and it's not as crazy as the "big" cities out there. Anyway, we had one more round of visits with the gurus at IU Cancer Center. Dr. Foster said I was healing very well from the surgery. We also met Dr. Einhorn (the man, the myth, the legend) for the first time. What a nice guy! Very friendly and unassuming, although I will say that his picture on the IU website is a bit out-of-date. Sarah resisted the urge to prostrate herself and kiss his feet in adoration and was content to thank him profusely for pioneering the chemotherapy regime that saved my life.
We also took some pics at the Richard & Annette Bloch Cancer Survivors Park next to the IU Medical Center. As I was making this entry, I discovered that there are multiple versions of this park all over the country! All of the parks have been made possible by the R. A. Bloch Cancer Foundation which is based in Kansas City (Mr. Bloch was the cofounder of H&R Block). Who knew?
We were told that I had maybe a 10% chance of teratoma returning, and a very small chance that the cancer itself would come back. Dr. Einhorn also suggested I could get rid of "Harry the Bastard" (my port-a-cath) if I wanted. I'm giving serious thought to the suggestion. It's not like I need a constant reminder that I'm not out of the woods yet. If I do have a recurrence of the active germ cell cancer that requires additional chemotherapy, I can always have another port put in. I think I'm willing to take that risk if it means asserting my freedom from cancer.
We returned from Indy to find a letter from the FAA telling me that while I couldn't get a regular medical certificate because of my history of cancer, I would be able to get a special issuance certificate. This basically means that I can return to flying, but will need to update the FAA annually on my condition for the next five years or so. I think I can handle that! I'll be scheduling my first post-cancer solo flight as soon as I can.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Long Time, No Post
Well, it's just about three weeks since the great RPLND took place, and I am slowly matriculating into the normal world again. The trip is not without occasional bumps and stutters: I had a sneezing fit last night and thought I was surely going to die, as I know my stomach had ripped open and my insides spilled out.
I've transitioned from Vicodin to Ultracet so that I'm OK to drive again, and I drove to my Board of Directors meeting on Saturday. It was a local trip, and the meeting lasted about 4 hours, which I seemed to tolerate well.
I got Dr. Foster's notes from the operations and confirmed what I had suspected - they had to severe a bundle of nerves that were tied up with the tumor, so I have a bit of nerve damage in my left thigh. Not sure if this is permanent; others who have been in a similar situation say that the tingling will go away after a couple of years, but that's just anecdotal evidence.
I had another one of the church RNs come by and pull the staples and apply the Steri-Strips. The incision is healing nicely, although when I went to the cancer box this morning for blood tests one of the nurses who obviously has a scab fetish picked off a bunch of my scabs. OW!!! Supposedly it will make for a nicer looking scar, but with as much chest hair as I have (and it is coming back with a vengeance), pretty soon you won't be able to see a scar anyway. I'll try soaking in a bath tonight to get the rest of the steri-strips and scabs off, hopefully in a less painful fashion.
I head back to Indiana next month for a follow up visit, then the rest of my care should be handled locally from then on. I'll have regular blood tests and x-rays, as well as the occasional CT to make sure that no teratoma comes back (so I get to keep on chugging those berry-flavored, yet earthy, barium shakes - whoopee).
I had Sarah shuttle me around this afternoon to pick up various medical records so I can put together a packet for the FAA and get my butt back into the air (naturally, the club plane is in the shop due to a little fender-bender, so there won't be any flying happening for the next couple of months anyway).
That's the way things are right now. I'll check back in a few weeks, unless anything new pops up.
I've transitioned from Vicodin to Ultracet so that I'm OK to drive again, and I drove to my Board of Directors meeting on Saturday. It was a local trip, and the meeting lasted about 4 hours, which I seemed to tolerate well.
I got Dr. Foster's notes from the operations and confirmed what I had suspected - they had to severe a bundle of nerves that were tied up with the tumor, so I have a bit of nerve damage in my left thigh. Not sure if this is permanent; others who have been in a similar situation say that the tingling will go away after a couple of years, but that's just anecdotal evidence.
I had another one of the church RNs come by and pull the staples and apply the Steri-Strips. The incision is healing nicely, although when I went to the cancer box this morning for blood tests one of the nurses who obviously has a scab fetish picked off a bunch of my scabs. OW!!! Supposedly it will make for a nicer looking scar, but with as much chest hair as I have (and it is coming back with a vengeance), pretty soon you won't be able to see a scar anyway. I'll try soaking in a bath tonight to get the rest of the steri-strips and scabs off, hopefully in a less painful fashion.
I head back to Indiana next month for a follow up visit, then the rest of my care should be handled locally from then on. I'll have regular blood tests and x-rays, as well as the occasional CT to make sure that no teratoma comes back (so I get to keep on chugging those berry-flavored, yet earthy, barium shakes - whoopee).
I had Sarah shuttle me around this afternoon to pick up various medical records so I can put together a packet for the FAA and get my butt back into the air (naturally, the club plane is in the shop due to a little fender-bender, so there won't be any flying happening for the next couple of months anyway).
That's the way things are right now. I'll check back in a few weeks, unless anything new pops up.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Flying high
There I was, just minding my own business on Saturday afternoon, when I got a call from Jerry, one of the members of our flying club (he's a "retired" American Airlines pilot who is big into fly fishing, as you can see).
Jerry: "How you feeling?"
me: "Not too bad."
Jerry: "Wanna go fly?"
It's the three words that cause time to stop for any pilot. I can think of only a handful of situations that would ever cause me to turn down the opportunity to fly (and in some cases, I might try to get out of those situations). Jerry is a flight instructor, so as long as he's in the right seat doing anything instructor-like, I can fly the plane from the left seat. We made a deal - he'd pay for the flying time, and I'd pay for the gas and put the plane up when we finished. He also got to work on some of his instructor technique, so there was some symbiosis.
We didn't go anyplace special, just cruised around and practiced some stalls, then some takeoffs and landings. But it was flying. Jerry's almost finished with his instrument instructor certificate, so we might make some plans for future flights. Plus, we finished just before the rains came and the Seattle-like "kill yourself weather" returned.
Jerry: "How you feeling?"
me: "Not too bad."
Jerry: "Wanna go fly?"
It's the three words that cause time to stop for any pilot. I can think of only a handful of situations that would ever cause me to turn down the opportunity to fly (and in some cases, I might try to get out of those situations). Jerry is a flight instructor, so as long as he's in the right seat doing anything instructor-like, I can fly the plane from the left seat. We made a deal - he'd pay for the flying time, and I'd pay for the gas and put the plane up when we finished. He also got to work on some of his instructor technique, so there was some symbiosis.
We didn't go anyplace special, just cruised around and practiced some stalls, then some takeoffs and landings. But it was flying. Jerry's almost finished with his instrument instructor certificate, so we might make some plans for future flights. Plus, we finished just before the rains came and the Seattle-like "kill yourself weather" returned.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Adding Insult to Injury
Freakin' great. I knew that I wouldn't be able to fly (using my pilot certificate) while I was undergoing chemo. I can handle that - I'd feel like crap anyway. Turns out the FAA considers any existence of any cancer (except some skin cancers) a disqualifying medical condition. I am officially grounded for at least 1 year after my last surgery. Then begins the arduous task of making my case to the FAA that I'm clean and cancer free. That'll probably take another 90-120 days after I apply for reinstatement.
This sucks. My last flight (12/24) was technically illegal too, but there you are.
This sucks. My last flight (12/24) was technically illegal too, but there you are.
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