There is no traditional gift for the 19th anniversary. The spenditary industrial complex, however, says that bronze is the appropriate gift. I kind of like that.
I celebrate December 1 as my survivorship anniversary. I can't actually remember the precise date when I was diagnosed, and family recollections vary, but it was right after Thanksgiving weekend, about a day after I was finally admitted to the hospital (my pediatrician did what they tell doctors to do, which is, on hearing hoofbeats, to think horses; they should append advice to check the atlas and make sure you're not on the savannah and surrounded by zebras). I also can't remember the date of my last treatment, which was April sometime, or the exact date when I went into remission. But in the dark and cold of the year, I give personal thanks for the things that were missing back then, like not being full of needles and a feeling of lurking doom, and being able to eat whatever I want. The emotional landscape is not entirely untinged with a bit of vengeful satisfaction—hah, cancer, we showed YOU—that will not surprise anyone who knows me personally.
And most years I forget; this is a busy season, there's lots to do that's more fun, and I've never run out to host a party. But this year, when bronze is appointed (and how much better than china for a celebration): hey, guys. It's good to be here.
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About Achilles and bronze and horses, from Iliad XVI:
"...while Patroklos was harnessing himself in shining bronze. His goodly greaves, fitted with silver clasps, he first girt round his legs, and next did on around his breast the well-made starry corslet of the swift-footed son of Aiakos. And round his shoulders he cast a sword of bronze, with studs of silver, and next took the great and mighty shield, and on his proud head set a well-wrought helm with a horse-hair crest, and terribly nodded the crest from above. Then seized he two strong lances that fitted his grasp...And Patroklos bade Automedon to yoke the horses speedily, even Automedon whom most he honoured after Achilles, the breaker of the ranks of men, and whom he held trustiest in battle to abide his call. And for him Automedon led beneath the yoke the swift horses, Xanthos and Balios, that fly as swift as the winds, the horses that the harpy Podarge bare to the West Wind, as she grazed on the meadow by the stream of Okeanos. And in the side-traces he put the goodly Pedasos, that Achilles carried away, when he took the city of Eetion; and being but a mortal steed, he followed with the immortal horses."
Mortal steed with immortal horses...that's us in a way. thank the gods you have this anniversary to celebrate! In bronze, a pitiless but beautiful metal. You go young warrior!!
Happy Anniversary (um, is that the appropriate thing to say?)
I'm glad you're here!
It is a happy anniversary; maybe it's perverse, but having such an identifiable low point is a useful benchmark. It's also a smashing time to go through a list of people who got me through: the parentals, of course; Seesterperson (who could've been forgiven for throttling me); the best pediatric oncologist in this or any other world; a host of nurses, orderlies, and peripheral medical personnel; the friends who backed me when I needed it and kicked my ass when I needed that more; and so on and so forth. One day of turkey and pie (mm, pie) is not enough for giving thanks.
Patroklos went out with a bang; I'm holding out for Odysseus's fate, though. (Mental note: pour a libation to Poseidon before heading to San Francisco. I love horses but not earthquakes.)
A day late or so, but I think this post deserves a couple of these:
\O/ \O/
You aten't dead and that makes me happy.
I aten't ded! Can't believe I didn't use that line.
(On an unrelated note, weebat, it looks like Sisterbat and spouse may end up livin' up the street from me. No dim sums will be safe from our depredations.)
I believe it's deem sums. (deems sum? attorneys general?)
i'm going to deem sum myself into agony tomorrow witchu. glory be.
so glad this great survival gives us a chance to do so.
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