He nudged the nose down, beginning a gradual descent to 5,000 feet where the higher atmospheric pressure would help "shove" more oxygen into what few red blood cells he had left. As the air grew thicker, the leaden feeling in his arms began to lift. The fog in his mind cleared, and the instruments on the dash finally stopped dancing.

He landed safely, a quiet reminder that while the sky may be clear, the real journey happens in the microscopic "buses" of the bloodstream.

His grip on the yolk felt weak, a classic sign that his tissues weren't getting the fuel they needed for aerobic metabolism.

Elias recognized the signs just in time. He remembered the flight school analogy: "Anemic hypoxia is like having a full tank of gas but a broken fuel pump". Even though the air around him had enough oxygen, his blood couldn't deliver it.