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To my friends and family:
Philip John Chance, my younger and only brother, died at 4:30 today, October 31, 2010. His death followed a bicycle accident August 4 where he either hit something in the road or was hit by a car, which is what the Prescott Courier wrote. He had been moved from hospitals to nursing homes in Phoenix since his neurosurgery and removal of 4 hematomas sustained from the accident.
My sister Margaret and I visited him Oct 23 and I stayed until the 27th. He was not receiving adequate care at the facility, the Capri Nursing Home, and was rarely checked on. I found him on the floor on Tuesday, October 26th and his head had hit the IV stand's base and his head was lodged between the bed and the nightstand. When I asked for help to get him back in bed, I saw enormous urine burns on his left buttock and it was very apparent that the staff, probably underpaid, did not check in on him. He as also on the floor when my sister Margaret and dear friend Patrice came to see him on the 23rd.
Philip was born June 5, 1957 and was a truly hyperactive child. Today, I believe he would be diagnosed with ADHD which has been linked to substance abuse by some researchers. Most medical professionals will tell you that there is a genetic factor in just about everything. We ask you not to judge. Philip had a serious car accident 30 years ago which left him with a brain injury as well as a paralyzed left arm. His passion was riding his bike around Prescott and exploring the history, geography and geography of this historical city south of Flagstaff.
Philip and I shared a bedroom until we moved to South Africa in 1964. Once, my German dolls disappeared and 2 years later, my dad found them buried in the crawl space under the house. He'd put mashed potatoes in your bed and glue in the special chocolate milk we got for cereal sometimes. He could be a total pain in the ass in all honesty. He attended St. Paul's Catholic School for boys and the Mother Superior said that if Philip stayed longer, she had hope for him. He called my mom a "heathen" for not being Catholic.
Returning to California, he hung out with the McPhee boys, Larry Russell, and Mark Songie and attended Vallecito. At age 14, my dad was transferred to Sao Paulo, Brasil, where Philip attended 9th grade at Escola Graduada de Sao Paulo. I was in grade 12. Philip was totally fluent in Portuguese and preferred to hang out with the grocery store workers at Pao d'Acucar where the people were Indian and black mix and like all countries were part of a class scale. He helped them stock shelves and was much happier doing this work than sitting in class. Our English teacher, Dick Orndorff, taught him how to play chess, and later, Philip scored in the 96th percentile in math. Brazil became a part of Philip's soul, although we all partied way too much.
My mom always said Philip danced to the beat of a different drummer, so Acalanes High School in Lafayette was an authoritarian setting, kindling for a fire of rebellion. He moved to Del Oro Continuing Ed and became a handful for any parent. Every family's got one, I believe. My parents had him go through Marine Boot Camp at Camp Pendleton. He got his GED and later in testing scored in the 96th percentile in math. The Marines wanted him to continue with officers training, which he declined.
My dad got him a job at a basalt mine in Arizona and there he had his first accident where, in 1977, he drove off a cliff and was in a coma for several months with a broken neck and a paralyzed arm that never healed. He should have had a conservatorship, but hindsight is 20/20. He lived in various places around Prescott including a tent in the National Forest in Government Canyon, yet no one can find it.
He had this awesome stamp collection that a friend stored for him, and thoughtlessly put it in a leaky shed. I shipped the books to my mom and the stamps that need help here as my husband collects stamps as well.
I think hope keeps us alive, and with Philip, despite his many problems, he still had that samba heartbeat we encountered in Brazil because it was an amazing year and a half for us and Brazil gets in your blood. Intuitively knowing he would not get better gave him permission to die. The words "Hope Floats" keep running through my mind.
My thanks to family, friends old and new. We hope to have a memorial service in Lafayette after a medical inquest and autopsy. He shouldn't have died, but I believe he knew he was not going to get better and living the rest of your life on a trach tube was not acceptable. They say God never gives us more than we can handle, but we have free will and Philip got more than he could handle, so he gently bowed out and said goodbye. In his memory, we ask that you do something kind--a dollar to the man on the street, helping an elderly person with a chore, sending $15 to the SPCA, doing something simple because kindness is the simplest yet most loving act there is.
Love, Cathleen Chance Vecchiato
604-533-0173
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Jenny Ebert (1976)
I was so happy to put that cross up for you in Prescott, AZ when I visited my family. I did not arrive in Brasil until after your family had left - but feel we have a common bond and several levels. May your brother rest in peace.