A grim prognosis

In the lexicon of their three-year marriage, the “butt wave” was their standard farewell. Michael developed the gesture in a cheap attempt to make his wife laugh. Michelle liked his backside, he knew.

So whenever he left the house, he placed his hand by the back pocket of his Levi’s, and he waved goodbye.

Michelle Hammer cuddles with her husband, Michael, who suffered an aneurysm in 2006.

It’s her last memory of the old Michael — an inside joke delivered the morning of Feb. 26, 2006, a day that had begun like most: with Michael making her laugh.

But the silliness didn’t last. Michelle knew something was wrong as soon as his boss at the trucking company called, wanting to know where Michael was. It had been three hours since he’d left their country cabin for the Buchanan parking lot where he kept his road tractor parked.

That’s where she found him, slumped on the floorboard, the engine still running. He had been getting ready to pull out when an undetected brain aneurysm burst.

A helicopter flew him to the University of Virginia Medical Center, where doctors were grim. Odds were 50-50 that he would make it past the first 48 hours.

But Michelle swears she heard the voice of God, telling her things would be OK. After the surgeon inserted a coil to control his brain’s blood flow, the doctor returned smiling. Even he was surprised by how well the surgery had gone.

However, the recovery would be long and painful, and the surgeon was painfully clear: He might never recover fully.