Anonymous Marine Veteran
I am a 37-year-old Marine Corps veteran. I deployed to Helmand Province, Afghanistan, in 2009 as a motor transport vehicle operator and served four years.
For over a decade I lived with symptoms I didn’t fully understand. I thought I was just dealing with stress from life and work. It wasn’t until I sought therapy while being treated for Chronic Pelvic Pain Syndrome that I learned I had been living with and coping with anxiety — possibly PTSD — for many years without realizing it. Looking back, the signs were there, but I had normalized them and pushed through without professional help.
After the birth of my first child, the severity of those issues became clear. One night, holding my 3-week-old daughter at 2 a.m., her tiny screams mixed with my extreme exhaustion triggered feelings I hadn’t experienced since my time in the Marines. Still, I did not seek help, fearing that a diagnosis could jeopardize my FAA medical certificate and my career as a pilot. I told myself, “You’re a Marine. You’re not broken — you’re just hurt. Push through.”
I did push through — upgrading to captain at my corporate flying job, then earning a position as a medevac pilot at a prestigious university hospital. But in March 2022, just months into that new role, stress began manifesting as severe pelvic pain. After months of searching for answers, I was diagnosed with Chronic Pelvic Pain Syndrome — a condition often caused by prolonged stress, anxiety, and muscle tension. I went on a voluntary medical leave for the next seven months.
I eventually received treatment, and the pain lessened. I was issued a Special Issuance medical for pelvic floor dysfunction and generalized anxiety disorder, and I complied fully with FAA requirements, meeting with my psychologist every six months and submitting reports for recertification.
In 2024, after confiding in a fellow Marine veteran coworker, I decided to apply for VA disability benefits — not to exploit the system, but out of principle, believing that veterans should not be singled out for scrutiny over benefits that civilians can accept in privacy. Unfortunately, this decision triggered exactly the fear I had avoided for years: increased FAA involvement, access to my medical records, and the likelihood of being placed in the HIMS program.
In April 2025, during a VA exam, I was formally diagnosed with PTSD — even though my treating psychologist had initially listed only generalized anxiety disorder with a subthreshold stress reaction. This change, though not my doing, has complicated my case and heightened my anxiety about how the FAA will interpret my medical history.
In May 2025, I was granted 50% VA disability for PTSD. My goal had been a 0% rating for anxiety — something I could only have achieved by downplaying symptoms, which I refused to do. Since submitting all documentation to my AME in June, I’ve waited nearly eight weeks with no word from the FAA. My AME, who is HIMS-trained, has warned that this will likely lead to costly neuropsychological testing and entry into the HIMS program.
I currently feel fit to fly and continue to do so, but my future is uncertain. My medical certificate expires in February 2026, and if it is not renewed, I will likely lose my job within 90 days. I make around $160,000 a year — enough to support my family — but without my certificate, I would have to take entry-level jobs paying a fraction of that. I have no loss-of-license insurance and no backup career outside of flying.
If you have read this far, thank you. I share my story so that others — especially veterans — understand the human cost of a system that often feels punitive rather than supportive.
If any member of Congress reads this, I ask that you ensure America’s veterans are treated with fairness, due process, compassion, and respect in the aeromedical certification process. We fought for you — please fight for us.
Sincerely,
[Anonymous]
Marine Veteran / Professional Pilot / Father / Husband