According to the FAA, I Should Be in a Nursing Home

I’m a U.S. Air Force veteran, private pilot, husband, and father. I also serve as Chief Academic Officer for a nationally accredited school that trains chaplains in Clinical Pastoral Education. I manage a full schedule, mentor future spiritual care providers, and still find time to take out the trash. But according to the FAA, I’m apparently on the fast track to memory care.

Since 2018, I’ve been trying to get back in the air under BasicMed—the very program Congress created to help pilots like me who are medically stable but tired of navigating the FAA’s bureaucratic obstacle course. Unfortunately, what Congress gave, the FAA has decided to bury in red tape.

My original special issuance application was filed in 2019. Since then, I’ve received two denials, each granting me the right to appeal directly to the Federal Air Surgeon—who, if I had to guess, hasn’t read a word of those appeals. They disappear into the FAA’s opaque and unaccountable review process where logic goes to die.

And then it got weird.

One denial cited untreated PTSD as the reason for grounding me. Problem: I’ve never been diagnosed with PTSD. I’ve never been treated for it. I’ve never even claimed to have it. Another letter claimed severe cognitive decline. Again—completely fabricated. I’ve never been diagnosed with any such condition, and every medical professional I’ve consulted has affirmed my full cognitive functioning.

I’ve undergone thorough neurological and psychological evaluations. I even met with an FAA HIMS-designated psychiatrist—at their request—who concluded I was mentally sound and had no disqualifying conditions. The FAA’s own internal neurology panel also reviewed my case in depth and issued a formal conclusion: “no further workup in neuro needed.” But apparently, those internal clearances carry no real weight. Whoever serves as the final arbiter is free to ignore the FAA’s own expert panels and issue a denial anyway—which is exactly what happened in my case.

On top of that, I’ve had every kind of cardiology workup imaginable, all leading to the same conclusion: stable with very low likelihood of incapacitation. I’m now nine years post-heart surgery, and every test shows I’m in good shape to fly. Yet the FAA still cites “cardiology” as a basis for denial—ignoring expert consensus and leaning instead on vague hand-waving and fear-based justifications.

Here’s the kicker: they tell you a one-time special issuance is required to qualify for BasicMed, but what they don’t tell you is this—you’ll never get it. They have no intention of approving you. It’s a bureaucratic shell game designed to appear compliant with Congressional intent while doing the exact opposite.

And just when you think you've cleared one hurdle, they stall. The FAA often takes a year or more to respond to submissions. By the time they do, they claim your labs, tests, or letters are "too old," forcing you to repeat the process all over again. Sometimes they suggest that if you just get one more test and it comes back favorable, you’ll be cleared—only to dredge up something else, often a condition already addressed or even previously cleared internally, like the neurology issue. It's not a process; it’s a trap.

I’ve spent thousands of dollars out of pocket. I’ve met every demand they’ve made—and still, they keep moving the goalposts. At this point, it feels less like a medical process and more like a war of attrition. The FAA, it seems, is simply hoping I’ll give up.
But I’m not going anywhere. All I’ve got is time.

I share this not just for myself, but for every pilot who’s been buried under this bloated and arbitrary system. BasicMed was supposed to offer relief. Instead, the FAA has turned it into a mirage—visible, promising, but always just out of reach.

I’m not asking for a free pass. I’m asking for due process, transparency, and for the FAA to follow the law that Congress enacted. If they can’t—or won’t—do that, we’ve got a bigger problem than outdated paperwork. We’ve got an agency that believes it’s above the very statutes that govern it.

Until then, I remain grounded—not because I’m unfit to fly, but because the FAA keeps inventing reasons to keep me from doing what I’ve already proven I’m capable of.

In recent months, I’ve also reached out to every elected official who represents me. Senator Mitch McConnell’s office submitted an official inquiry to the FAA on my behalf—though I haven’t seen the contents of that inquiry, so I can’t say whether it will carry much weight. Separately, I’ve contacted the FAA Administrator, the Secretary of Transportation, the Department of Transportation’s Office of Inspector General, and even the FAA’s own Medical Ombudsman. At this point, I’m hoping someone—anyone—with the authority to act will take this seriously and intervene. The system isn’t just broken; it seems willfully indifferent.