Pinnie the Wig wonders

Before I was ill I'd play silly games to decide my own fate: if my rubbish landed in the bin then I'd have another choccy, or if I could be the first on the steps coming off the tube I'd be in for a good night. That sort of thing. 
Like most things, these superstitions have become a bit more cutting now: I was given some peonies last week and besides 'what gorgeous flowers and what a lovely gesture', I thought nothing of them. Now, after a trip to the Royal College of Physicians garden things have changed. I found out peonies are called peonies after Peon, the physician to the Gods. Somehow (in my maybe not too serious mind) this means I'm going to be well looked after all of a sudden and I'm going to live! Hurray! 
I wonder whether the sender of the peonies knew she was giving such a gift as life. I doubt it but I'm going to take great delight in telling her...