“We have a strong penchant for assigning nicknames, we love it”

Ihad to say anaesthetist aloud this week, it’s one of my worst words, you know those words that you stumble over or avoid saying all together? And with anaesthetist there’s no easy replacement – saying “the doctor who knocks you out” is even more work than the original. Australia is the lucky country though, because the US version is anaesthesiologist, which sounds like a psychologist changed careers. We love to abbreviate words here, but no one seems to have come up with a shortened version of this mouthful of a word.

As a nation, we have a strong penchant for assigning nicknames. We love it, we could do it at an Olympic level.

I hear someone’s name and instantly my brain starts looking for an easier option. I met a Harrison this week and instantly mulled it over; Harry, Hazza, Haz or Big H immediately sprung to mind.

It should be noted here that Big H works regardless of Haz’s height. Whether HazMat is a small bloke or a unit, Big H can still be used – either tongue in cheek, or to appropriately acknowledge that SnazzyHazzy is the size of a brick shithouse, which is our longwinded way of saying that Hdog is muscular, broad and tall.

I love the tradition we have here of giving someone a nickname that is longer than the original. Steve becomes SteveO for example. That newly added O does a lot of heavy lifting: it lets Steve know that we like him, and we’ve saved ourselves some time. Yes, that’s right, you can apparently save time by adding another syllable. Perhaps because the O can quickly be run into the first half of the next word, and perhaps because you can more easily shout SteveO with a mouthful of sausage roll.

The other thing we’re proficient at is assigning a term for a group of professionals. Our carpenters are chippies, and electricians are sparkies. My mission has become to find a word like that as a widely accepted replacement for anaesthetist.

I can hear you from here, practise it Mel, listen to it said a few times and you’ll pick it up. I’m 40, the last time I learned a new skill was 2012 when I drove a jet ski. I’m looking for the easy option here; I don’t parallel park and I’ve never made a souffle – you’ll find me waddling down the path of least resistance.

There’s words I will duck and weave to avoid having to attempt to spell, but I can pronounce just fine; bureau is one. Thanks to spell check though I just mash around the letters b, u, e and r a few times until the little red line pops up and offers me bureau. However why write bureau when you can simply bang off a text that reads “the BOM says it’s going to rain, is the white car in the garage?”

I remember teachers in primary school saying “you won’t always have a dictionary on you, you need to know how to spell it”.

Part of me wanted to tell them about the gadget I’d just seen on Beyond2000 that can write what you’re thinking on a whiteboard just by putting special goggles on your eyes.

I wonder what they say nowadays. “One day, your iPad, phone, smart watch and laptop might all not be charged.”

I’ve solved the dilemma of what we can call anaesthetists. I did have some help with this one, thanks to my pals Dr Toon and Dr Won, who deserve much credit for accepting texts from me at all hours wondering if I can take an antihistamine with ibuprofen.

Here’s some inside knowledge – apparently in the biz, anaesthetists are referred to as “gasmen”. I bet they always have a calculator on them.