AOPA Pilot Magazine - November 2020 - 16

LETTERS

FROM OUR SEPTEMBER 2020 ISSUE

Dodging a bullet
Readers applaud the wit and wisdom of author Barry Schiff
Let me say Barry Schiff is one of
the best aviation authors ever.
His wisdom, never-ending
education, and commonsense
approach to flying is something to treasure. I hope there
have and will continue to be
many who learn from him. He
is a great teacher. I say this after
reading his "Proficient Pilot"
column ("Dodging a Bullet")
and it hit home.
Recovering from an appendectomy, things are going well
for me. I am glad they are swell
for him also. Keep healthy.
Keep writing. Keep educating
the next generation with your
expansive experience.
Mark Lee Priglmeier
AOPA 4332096
Sauk Rapids, Minnesota

Thanks so much for the eerily
timely article on "dodging a
bullet." This past month I had
a near-exact situation. Except
mine was due to two straight
days of 90-degree yardwork,
dehydration, which led to
severe dizziness, wobbly, confusion. My wife drove me to
the hospital; assumptions of
stroke, but multiple MRIs
showed nothing. My main
thoughts were "Was that my
last flight?"
My wife didn't quite understand. So, when I saw Barry
Schiff's article, I immediately
cut it out and shared it with
her. At 60-plus, this was my
wake-up call; I'm not putting
off those additional ratings, or
trips I want to make!
Eric Langer
AOPA 826752
Annapolis, Maryland

16 | AOPA PILOT November 2020

I am only 88 years old and have more than

PROFICIENT PILOT

Dodging a bullet

BY BARRY SCHIFF

Reflections on an unneeded medical scare
THIS BEGAN ON A RECENT SUNDAY with what felt like
a mild urinary tract infection. No big deal, I thought. I
can wait until the next day to call my doctor.
I awoke the next morning, however, with a lowgrade fever. It was natural these days to wonder if I
had contracted the coronavirus. I drove to a nearby
urgent care facility for a COVID-19 test. I would not
have the results, however, until at least the next day.
In the meantime, I inexplicably ignored the infection.
While speaking on the landline that evening with
friend and fellow pilot, Steve Maiman, I suddenly
began feeling confused. I was having difficulty forming sentences and stringing words together. I could not
convey my thoughts and began feeling delirious. I was
really scared and ended the call abruptly. (Steve confirmed days later that I sounded as if I were in serious

Was this the end of my 68-year flying career?
Had I made my last flight without knowing
it was my last?

BARRY SCHIFF

began his
fourteenth
logbook and has
every intention of
filling it.

mental distress.) I then discovered I could not remember how to hang up the phone. My wife, Dorie, had
just entered the room, so I asked her for help. She gave
me an odd look and told me to push the red button. I
instead kept pressing some other button and finally
gave up in frustration. "What do I do with this thing?"
I asked while holding out the handset. "Put it in its
receptacle," she replied patiently. I could not comprehend what she meant, so I just laid it on a table, the dial
tone continuing to blare from the handset.
I then realized I did not know who or where I was.
This was terrifying.
The next thing I remember is speeding somewhere
in the back of Dorie's car. She was talking on her cellphone to my son, Brian, and the only words I could
understand were those asking him to meet us at the Las
Robles Hospital in nearby Thousand Oaks, California.
I knew I was in real trouble but could not communicate my fear. I leaned back in my seat, dreading
what lay ahead. Looking through the sunroof I saw a
familiar image: a Cessna single silhouetted against the
dusk sky. It seemed to be heading in the same direction, toward the hospital, a friendly pathfinder leading
the way. Then the little airplane turned away. I soon

began to comprehend that I might never fly again, that
I might never again cavort about the sky. Was this the
end of my 68-year flying career? Had I made my last
flight without knowing it was my last? What is wrong
with me!?
The next thing I remember is commotion. Men
in white lifted me onto a gurney and began rolling
me somewhere. Lots of insistent voices. Bright lights.
Noises. Needles stuck in my arm. Probes positioned
everywhere. The only words I heard loud and clear were
"possible stroke." Oh, my God. It's true. My flying days
are over. I will never again experience the freedom and
joy of flight that has sustained me throughout my life.
After a night of more needles, poking, medications,
examinations, and virtually no sleep, a doctor arrived
at my bedside with the diagnosis. He said my urinary
tract infection (UTI) as well as dehydration had led
to a systemic and almost fatal infection called sepsis.
In addition to a variety of other potentially unpleasant symptoms, patients often exhibit "altered mental
status" and "expressive aphasia," a horrifying loss of
one's ability to produce written or spoken language.
(There probably are some who would prefer to experience me this way.)
The doctor continued by telling me that the antibiotics would take care of me and that my brain MRI
and other tests confirm I did not have a stroke. "Other
than feeling weak for a while-your body took quite a
beating-you should return to normal with no residual or ill effects." He then handed me a prescription to
be filled after I was discharged. After the doctor left, a
nurse told me how lucky I was. "UTIs kill more older
people than almost any other condition." She also told
me that I owe my wife a trip to the jewelry store for
getting me to the hospital in the nick of time.
Brian drove me home two days later. I told him we
needed to stop to fill some prescriptions. "Sure thing,"
he said. I retrieved the paper from my pocket. It specified a long-term antibiotic and said in bold print,
"Drink more water. You could have saved yourself a
lot of misery."
I reclined my seat, began to relax, and looked
through Brian's sunroof. There was another Cessna;
it seemed to be inviting me back to the sky.
And it turned out the COVID-19 test was negative. Life is good.
AOPA
barryschiff.com

5,000 flying hours of flying in military and GA
airplanes. I was the founder of the AOPA-Israel
chapter and owned and flew my Twin Comanche
all over the world. Barry Schiff's article is
commendable and addresses the health perils of
many senior pilots. Please accept my best wishes
for many more years of healthy flying (until 120).
Avner Yoshpe
AOPA 5323915
Tel Aviv, Israel

20 | AOPA PILOT September 2020

I wanted to say that I am so
glad to hear that Barry Schiff's
medical condition was taken
care of and that he is back in
the saddle.
I have to say that his hospital nurse was right. Many
older folks have bad outcomes
from [urinary tract] infections. My mother was denied
adequate antibiotic treatment
for her UTI while she was in
a nursing home and I think

that her unexpected death
was closely related to her septic condition. Unfortunately,
that is a common malady for
older people.
Barry, your concerned family and friends are a godsend.
Please take care of yourself and drink lots of water!
Wishing you many more air
miles and gentle sunsets.
Larry Bell
AOPA 1288215
Albuquerque, New Mexico

Which of these AOPA Sweepstakes aircraft is your favorite?
Van's Aircraft RV-10 (2019-2020)
75th Anniversary Beechcraft
Debonair (2014)
First New 182 (1996)
Centennial of Flight Waco
(2002-2003)
Millennium Mooney (2000)

34%
20%

13%
16%

17%
16%

34%

17%
20%

13%

AOPA Aviation eBrief poll
Learn more about this year's sweepstakes aircraft in "They Gave It
Their All," which begins on p. 60.

Flying the Texas
Hill Country

As a native Texan, Julie
Walker's article "Flying the
Texas Hill Country" tugged
at my heartstrings-especially
that opening close-up of a bluebonnet with Cub backdrop.
That said, I have a couple of
corrections.
Although Davy Crockett and
Jim Bowie did indeed give their
lives defending the Alamo, Sam
Houston was not at the battle.
He led the remaining Texian
forces to victory at San Jacinto
and subsequently became the
first elected president of the
Republic of Texas, U.S. senator,
and governor of Texas.
The King Ranch is another
piece of Texas lore that Texans
love to brag about, and it is
indeed larger than Rhode
Island, or as we would say in
Texas, "bigger than Dallas."

http://www.barryschiff.com

AOPA Pilot Magazine - November 2020

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