To Hell and Back
19 October 2006, 0642ZI learned to fly five years ago. I don't have a typical story about why I wanted to fly airplanes; honestly, they scared the hell out of me. But something about it was undeniably alluring, so I summoned up the courage to try it out. My first few lessons were turbulent and scary, but I clenched my teeth, and soon I was hooked. Flying was all I could think about. My friends quickly became annoyed because it was all I would talk about. Learning to fly was one of the most challenging and rewarding endeavors I'd ever undertaken. It consumed me.
My enthusiasm grew tremendously after earning my private certificate. I went on to earn an instrument rating, seaplane rating, and commercial certificate. I learned to fly tailwheel airplanes in the most beautiful Citabria I've ever laid eyes upon. Along the way I met some wonderful people who are now great friends of mine. Last year I bought a share on a DA20; it was literally a dream come true.
It all came to a screeching halt in August, when I was diagnosed with cancer.
This past Tuesday marks two months since surgery, and today marks two weeks since my last dose of radiation. Officially, I'm cured. I'm a survivor. But I'm still not allowed to fly yet. There's no reason I can't go up with an instructor; the pain from surgery and the fatigue from radiation have both passed. But somehow it just doesn't seem the same. I can't relive the thrill of my first solo flight. I can't take Mary to dinner in Muncie. I can't just drive out to the airport, do the preflight, hop in, and take off.
The FAA is already reviewing my records. I don't know what to expect, but thankfully, my case is not complicated, and my prognosis is excellent. Still, it kills me to be grounded.
I know I'll be back in the air, on my own, some day. I just hope that day comes soon.
Comments
btw - You look great, a real survivor.
Hope you fly soon.