Where Is the Finish Line? — Harley Lowe’s Story

I have been watching the recent conversations about the FAA medical process and HIMS, and honestly, it hits home for me.

Let me start by saying this process was not quick, and it sure as hell wasn’t cheap.

I wasn’t trying to become an airline pilot or fly commercially. I wanted my private pilot’s license because I had a vision for using it to help people. I wanted to volunteer with organizations like Pilots N Paws and Angel Flight programs, help transport people who needed medical treatment, and potentially assist with hurricane relief and disaster response. I had helped with hurricane relief before, and I had seen how valuable aviation can be when people need help.

For me, flying was about service.

My FAA medical process started with a normal medical exam through a recommended AME. Then, for roughly two years, every four to six months, I received another letter asking for additional information or documentation.

Every time, I did what they asked. I tracked down records, gathered documentation, submitted everything and waited.

Then another letter came.

After about two years of this, I finally received my first actual denial.

I then consulted with an aviation lawyer, who recommended an AME in Pennsylvania. I never traveled to Pennsylvania to see him. We had phone consultations, and he gave me instructions for things I could start doing ahead of time before eventually coming to see him.

One of those things was urine testing.

He initially told me to do a few tests, so I did. Then I was told I needed fourteen.

So I did fourteen.

All fourteen were negative.

Then the Pennsylvania AME called me and asked if I was even taking this process seriously and whether I had even started doing urinalysis.

I remember thinking, “Excuse me?” 😂

I had already completed all fourteen tests.

He said his assistant would look into it.

At that point, I was frustrated and confused. I stopped testing because I genuinely believed I had completed the requirement I had been given. I wasn’t trying to avoid testing or get around anything. I believed I had done what I was instructed to do.

Because I still wasn’t getting clear information, I decided to seek another opinion. That is how I ended up with an AME in Alaska.

The Alaska AME initially told me I might not even need HIMS, so I traveled to Alaska to see her.

During my physical exam, she questioned me about why I had stopped testing after completing the fourteen tests I had been instructed to do by the Pennsylvania AME. She accused me of manipulating the system.

That really upset me because that was never what I was doing.

During the exam, she sent me out into town to have another urine test done. I went and did it.

It was negative.

She then instructed me to continue testing after I left Alaska, and I did. I continued testing as instructed, and those tests were negative as well.

I was also told that I did need HIMS and that I needed to attend AA.

So I did.

I attended AA twice a week for eight months.

Eventually, I found a third AME much closer to home, and honestly, she was the best AME I dealt with throughout this entire process. She advocated for me, fought for me and took the time to explain what was happening.

By this point, I had spent years and thousands of dollars trying to navigate the process.

I eventually completed twenty four urine tests in total. All fourteen of the tests I completed because of the Pennsylvania AME’s instructions were negative, and the testing I continued after Alaska was negative as well.

There were psychiatric evaluations, cognitive testing, appointments, travel, paperwork and meetings. The evaluations alone can cost hundreds of dollars, and depending on the provider, some can cost around $2,000 or more.

And then there was work.

Some days I had only a one hour lunch break, and I would spend it going to a lab to pee in a cup. Other times, I was told an appointment had been scheduled, only to arrive at the lab and find out they didn’t even know I was coming.

I would sit there waiting until my lunch was over, knowing I needed to get back to the veterinary hospital to monitor anesthesia during surgery.

Thankfully, my workplace was understanding. Not everyone would have been that fortunate.

Then, during all of this, I lost my dad.

There were days when I was dealing with grief while simultaneously trying to keep up with work, testing, AA, evaluations, travel and everything else this process required.

The incidents that originally brought me into the FAA medical process happened around 2015 to 2017.

That was a long time ago.

I was young. I made mistakes. I took accountability for them. I changed my life. I have been sober since 2019.

Eventually, I was told I needed an IOP. That alone was not what made me walk away.

What finally broke me was learning in 2026 what came after Special Issuance.

I learned that the HIMS step down process involves an eight year monitoring timeline and that the clock begins with Special Issuance, not with all the years you have already spent trying to get there.

After roughly seven years of navigating the medical process, that was devastating.

And looking back now, I think there is a bigger issue here.

For a long time, I was frustrated with the inconsistent information I received from different AMEs. But I have come to realize that the problem may go deeper than individual AMEs.

How can an AME give pilots a clear roadmap if the system itself doesn’t provide a clear roadmap?

I had researched this process. I talked to multiple AMEs. I consulted an aviation lawyer. I followed instructions. I completed testing. I attended AA. I spent thousands of dollars. I kept showing up.

And yet, after all of that, I still couldn’t answer one basic question:

What exactly do I have to do to get to the finish line, and when do I get there?

That is why the pilot reform conversation matters to me.

I don’t think pilots are asking for the FAA to throw safety standards out the window. I certainly wasn’t.

We are asking for transparency.

Give us the roadmap.

Tell us what is required.

Tell us what comes next.

Tell us what the timeline actually looks like.

Tell us what the finish line is.

Because people cannot make informed decisions about their lives when they don’t have the information necessary to understand where the road is going.

I ultimately made the decision to remove myself from HIMS and step away from pursuing my pilot medical for now.

That decision hurt.

I had worked toward becoming a pilot for years. I wanted to fly, but more than that, I wanted to use flying to serve others.

I wanted to help people.

I wanted to help animals.

I wanted to be useful when disaster struck.

I wanted to take something I had worked so hard for and use it for something bigger than myself.

I wasn’t asking for a shortcut.

I wasn’t asking for special treatment.

I was willing to do the work.

I just needed to know where that work was leading.

And maybe that is what reform should be about.

Not lowering the bar.

Not giving people a free pass.

Just giving pilots a clear path to the finish line.

Because after spending years trying to reach it, the hardest part wasn’t the work.

It was not knowing where the finish line was.

Harley Lowe