Preemptively Nesting

All of my friends are having babies.

Okay, slight exaggeration. But it does feel like everytime I open facebook or my email there’s more news, more babies and more baby bump pictures than I can count.

Naturally, my mind turns to my own uterus and thinking about the potential of future motherhood.

I want children. Just eventually, not yet. I worry myself sometimes looking at mums and babies out in the real world and I don’t feel like I’ll ever be ready for growing and raising another little human being. It seems quite terrifying. And understandably life-altering.

But if not yet, then when? And what exactly am I waiting for?

I don’t feel any more grown up over the last few years, though I am in my mid-twenties. I don’t see a good enough grasp of simple household tasks and finances in myself that I’d feel safe adding more stress, mess, spending and worry on top of my not-as-well-organised-life-as-I’d-like. And I think about my career and the fact that I’d have to put any kind of training on hold to have a child, and then how on Earth could I manage work and a family.

Theory: We all expect to grow up and feel comfortable to a certain extent before consciously deciding to move on to the next level, and instead life just throws you into the deep end and expects that you totally went to those life-swimming-lessons that one time.

So instead of starting to dream about babies and buy their gorgeous tiny clothes, I’m doing the practical, perhaps slightly pessimistic, thing of starting to prepare. As in, I’m researching babies and pregnancy and raising children and troubleshooting issues like getting them to stay in bed all night and toilet training that works!

Maybe I did go insane.

Thought it was better than winding up unexpectedly in life’s deep end without any kind of advice, expectation or knowledge.

So I have an excel spreadsheet which I’m filling with all of the information the internet is throwing at me. Perhaps it would be better to get the ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’ book, but for one thing I think my poor boyfriend would freak out just a little if he saw that book, and for another, I did flick through it once at a book sale but didn’t see much useful child-raising information within the reflux, constipation and haemorrhoids section of the delights of pregnancy. Perhaps I’d flicked through the wrong part of the book, but as I wasn’t and still aren’t actually expecting anything yet, I thought I can save that one for the nesting stage.

I don’t think that I will have all of the answers when it actually comes time to have kids, but at least I’ll be somewhat prepared, I hope.

Pre-emptively nesting,



Common Wednesday

[I recognise it is a Tuesday.
And that I haven’t posted in such a long time.
There’s a thousand and one excuses for why there’s been a ridiculous delay, but to be honest it’s all quite mundane. Let’s just move on shall we?]

There are ways scientist can predict, with a 94% accuracy, the health and long-term viability of a relationship, no matter how fresh or new said relationship is. With this in mind, would you want the test early in your relationship? Always the pessimist, I see a few options if you and your partner score poorly on their testing: (a) cut your losses early, (b) find out where you may be going wrong and try to fix things, or (c ) continue along the same path, just not-so-blindly, and keep your fingers crossed that you’re the 6% they’re not able to predict accurately anyway.

Not so surprisingly, the important parts of a couple’s viability come down to the way they treat each other.
The couple should respond positively or with curiosity to one another’s bids for attention. They should try to rally their spirits when at their lowest energy to avoid neglecting small moments of emotional connection. They should be present for the good times, to actively engage each other and bring more of the good feels into the relationship.

This is what Common Wednesdays are all about. They’re the days that make up the years together, the ones you won’t remember, the time spent doing nothing particularly special at all. If you can connect on a Common Wednesday, you’ll probably make it.

I moved in with Ben several months ago. As in, I up-and-moved states, jobs, houses, gave up my dogs and left friends and family behind. I really don’t regret it. Too cliched to say he makes me happy? He encourages my happiness.

We did hit a snag in the relationship over Christmas. I won’t go into the details of it, but it boiled down to Ben being fairly relaxed, and me being too uptight. We clashed a little. If scientists had examined us at that time, I doubt we’d have scored well. But we’ve both made sure we were heard, we’ve made steps towards each other, we’re both trying. Things are good 🙂

My house sells this Wednesday. And yes I’m calling it ‘mine’ because that’s what it is, though I’ve been avoiding possessive pronouns on the subject for a while – it’s not that it’s an issue, I just don’t want it to become one. We’re kind of in the what’s-mine-is-your’s phase, though I do want to settle into a nice budget sooner rather than later. Selling the house means paying off all of the debt. This is fairly important, obv.

So it’s not exactly a common Wednesday, but I’ll be interested to see how Ben responds to my bids for his attention, and then to see whether you can teach good relationship habits and communication. (And if you can teach such relationship skills… is it just me who thinks we should have been taught this stuff in school?)

Perhaps ignorance is bliss only because you have to work harder when you have some knowledge. Feels like too much effort.

So, maybe I’m back for a bit?

12 Days

Here’s what you’ve missed while I’ve not been blogging:
1. Ben used the L-word (correct context, cute story; another time)
2. We decided on our anniversary date (when I called him to re-ask ‘what this is’; though in my head I still refer to our first date, some 3 months prior)
3. I got the job interstate (yay and whoa boy it’s actually happening now), and I leave in under three weeks.
4. Preparing to move interstate = long to-do list = sucky. (Also that I have a lot of craft stuff. Almost as many craft boxes as kitchen boxes, and I love food and cooking, so that is weird..)
5. Attended two weddings – one beautiful, gorgeous, magical, the other a little disappointing and oddly disproportionate. (Got me thinking about what I would want in a wedding, or perhaps what I wouldn’t want… ideas for another day, sorry).
6. Sacrificing a lot for this move. (Don’t know which battles I should fight for and which I should surrender; especially when things he doesn’t care about he says “If that’s what my girl wants, it’s what my girl gets”).
7. A mum of one of my best friends has been diagnosed with cancer. (Really puts everything into perspective and makes me want to do a lot of things in preparation for the inevitable with my own mum – though much further down the line of course. Also reminds me I need to update my will).

No theories today, only packing and boxes.
And 11 more days of work at the hospital that has been my home for four and a half years. *Sadface*.
– Gigi.


(An involuntary, though not necessarily unwanted, action.)

I got some advice today – that if you love someone, you should tell them. It felt like it was in the context of life is fleeting; carpe diem.

I do fully appreciate this concept – and I do agree with the diving-in-head-first philosophy. …

And I have already done the deep-breath-take-the-plunge recently with asking Ben (again) if we’re an item – luckily for me, his answer was in the affirmative and made me feel so incredibly special. …

But I don’t know whether I told you about my most embarrassing moment in this whole thing – the part when I think we both realised I am not cool at all, and after an agonising delayed and then the actual plane flight.. (I think, I hope) that he finds me more adorable because of it.

When I had to drop Ben off at the airport after Christmas, I was flustered because we were running late, and so a reflexive-and-a-little-rough-sounding “I love you” escaped me before I’d even formulated a thought of any salutation.

Kind of like you’d do with your mum …or an ex you’d been with for five and a half years.

And I didn’t get the chance to explain or take it back or even try to work out how I could take it back.

He just kissed me. And it was a little harder and longer than it probably would have been. A brief goodbye, safe flight. And then he was gone.

I sent a txt when I’d gotten the chance to start to apologise for the reflex and that it didn’t count as me having said it …yet (tongue-out-smiley-face).


So my thinking is, now I can’t say it first (officially) at all. Regardless of what I’m feeling when.

Theory #19: Every now and then it is someone else’s turn to make the grand romantic gesture. Best not to get in their way.

– Gigi.


I have a boyfriend.

– Gigi 🙂


Good to go yet?


In traffic light terms we know exactly what it means.

The relationship Ben and I have is very new. It’s even still at the naive stages where everything is wonderful and hopeful and probably not-so-realistic.

This is the time where everyone is allowed to caution me against moving – it has the potential to go down in a lot of flames.

Though a friend at work made me feel confident. “Go for it! Why not?” And proceeded to tell me about how two years ago her now-husband-then-green-boyfriend cancelled her removal truck to take her things to her friend’s place and instead arrived with a truck to help pack her things to take to his place instead.

Her theory (#18): “When you know, you know“.

I researched a bit about checklists for moving in together. Promising at least. I’ll need to have a couple of conversations with Ben in the near future, but no glaring problems or alarm bells or red flashing stop lights.

However, I do have some main hurdles (aside from the greenity) to moving state and moving in: Work, house + furniture, and the dogs.

1. Work.

There is no way I will move without a job to go to. I have two options, kind of. First option is to apply (i.e. send my CV) to all the hospitals within a half hour travel distance from where “home” will be. Second option is to register for locum work and hope that I can (a) get approval considering my narcolepsy, and (b) get enough work to be able to pay the bills.

2. House + furniture.

Probably the easiest to organise of all of the logistics. I can rent out my house and store my furniture. Plus if things can be organised/happen at the right time, then I can take some furniture with me. At worst case scenario and things don’t work out, I can crash with my mum, keep the furniture in storage and move back home when the lease runs out. (But that’s worst case and I’m banking on things going well with Ben and I).

3. The dogs.

Oh boy. I don’t think I can take them with me. So with one disabled little dear and the other a tad anti-social, it might be difficult. I don’t like the idea of finding a friend to dog-sit for an unknown time – makes it hard for them to find a way to back out if they can’t handle it. (And really, I can’t handle it half the time, so can’t expect someone I know to cope). They’re gorgeous dogs, and I love them, but I wouldn’t want them to be the reason that stops me from taking this opportunity with Ben. So they would need to be rehomed. I’ve got some options, but I am a bit worried. I’m hoping I can organise it for a foster-type-situation, but I don’t know if I can be that lucky. At worst case scenario, I have to give them away, and if things don’t work out, then I’ve lost the relationship and the dogs.

Hence, some hurdles. Not impossible.

Any advice?

– Gigi Orist.


“Don’t even blink.”

Doctor Who reference not even remotely related to how awesome my weekend was. Ultimately, I didn’t even blink when it came down to the pointy end.

Theory #16: Trust your instincts when making decisions: your subconscious already agrees with you, it takes less time, and you’re less likely to panic and fret over any potential negative aspects.

Split second decision. Trusting my instincts on this one. Figuring out the details later. And possibly relatively soon.

By all means, there is nothing wrong with hesitating – it probably means you have a lot to lose, or perhaps not enough to gain. There is something to be said for weighing a decision, assessing the value of the pros and cons, carefully calculating all of your options.

That is usually the way I work – overthinking everything, hesitating on every decision, sitting on the fence for as long as I can.

But for this situation? I’ve known my choice for a while now – perhaps just subconsciously though. And as most of you know, I’ve been agonising over everything that Ben has done or said (or what I’ve done or said and how he responded), wondering how he really feels about me and what this whole thing is.

So here was the result of a wonderful weekend (I only wish Dutch courage hadn’t been what helped us have the conversation or perhaps I could remember it a little better!):

In the not too distant future I will be moving. To a new city, a new state. To move in with Ben.

Call me crazy. Actually, please do – I’ve not done anything like this before and I’m not usually the kind to jump head first into things – especially something as important as this.

But here’s my reasoning – I don’t have enough reasons not to.

And I’m not talking logistics here, I mean that my first reaction, my instinct has been “sure, why not?”.

Fear of failure is only minimally present – is this a “when you know, you know” type situation? Or am I just not thinking hard enough about it all? Or am I just being stubborn because I’ve made a quick decision (one of my very first) and I’m subconsciously avoiding thinking about the difficult parts.

So here I am, getting excited about moving and taking a big step, while I try my best not to catalogue just how complicated things might become.

-Dr Gigi Orist.

p.s. Hope you all had a smashing Australia Day! 😀

Long weekend.

Work has been a bit hectic.

Monday I wanted to quit everything and run far, far away – why on earth would anyone become a doctor? (Run-in with a nasty boss – I won’t go into specifics – it’s all okay now).

By Wednesday I had gotten to a high of “oh wow why did I ever question my career choice?” as I freaked out all the way through my first fairly difficult shift (Paediatric Registrar in ED) – survived obviously, as did all the children of course.

And then by Thursday I’d come back to my equilibrium – feeling like work is just that and I’m okay with my choice.

No theory or questions today. I’m still half asleep on a plane to go visit Ben. Finally 🙂

Have an awesome long weekend! Happy Australia Day!!

-Dr O

Parasitic work.

Anyone looking at a career in medicine needs to take a good hard look at their life and decide whether they are willing to give all of it up for the sake of trying to make other people better. Oh and those people? Some of them are demanding, ungrateful, rude, irresponsible, stupid, non-compliant with treatment, and generally so entitled and so unaware of the time, effort and energy that you have put into their medical management that you mightn’t even get a thank you.

Some days, you want to be rude back. You want to yell at them that it’s their fault they’re sick. That they need to be better parents. That they need to use protection. That they shouldn’t use Doctor Google. And that they should get a job and stop relying on the government and expecting that everyone else has been put on this Earth to fix all of their problems.



*deep sigh*

It annoys me some days more than others. Particularly when someone has been particularly rude and it reminds me: I still have to put up with all of the crap while I’m at work; because I work, I pay taxes; taxes that help support government schemes like the PBS, medicare, public health system, and welfare payments; which, more often than not, these people are heavily reliant upon; which amplifies their sense of entitlement because they have most it handed to them on a silver platter. It is very frustrating to trace the loop around – essentially I’m at work so they can be rude to me if they want to.

The worst days happen when you add difficult patients to unpaid overtime any overtime.

Overtime is an expected part of being a doctor. You are also judged, and critically so, by other doctors if you are walking out on time (…mustn’t be a very good resident/must be neglecting so much work for someone else/must be a Q-word* time of the year/must be a breezy rotation.. have to get my hands on that one). There is always more work to be done, you are almost never on top of anything, and if you were to leave something urgent for the following day, there is always the potential you might kill someone. Nothing like the threat of medical negligence, or even manslaughter, bearing down on you as you try to complete your mountain of paperwork.

*Q-word will not be typed by myself in work context or I will be smote upon.

I have become acutely aware of what the hospital and its overtime steals from me.

Sleep. Lunch. Dinner. Time. Rest. Relaxation. Exercise. Hobbies. Sun. Fresh air. Holidays. Dates.


I do love my job, but it can often be quite hard to remember what regular life is like when you have chosen a career that will always take precedence and always be demanding and suck away at just a bit more of your time/energy/life.

Yep. A medical degree is like having an extremely needy toddler. Minimal symbiosis. It’s a parasite.


Theory #15: Give up on trying to fix people and you can have a much happier work/life balance.

– Dr O.

An Orist, The Theorist, Not Called Sexy.

First posts should be an introduction. Apologies in advance.

Theory #1: Before embarking on an online adventure, one must choose where they sit on the spectrum of sharing personal information.

Real stories are infinitely more interesting, but the potential for a backlash can be too risky with complete and utter honesty online, and yet the stories themselves can be meaningless if too little information is revealed in the first place.

So here is my pledge, to be as open as I can be, but without sharing identifying information about myself or others. With this, I hope, I won’t get myself or others into awkward situations. ..Fingers crossed.

I am a 25 year old female, but I cannot reveal my name. Since I read sexytheorist as “Sexy the Orist”, I would like you to affectionately call me an Orist. Of course, as this is a completely fictional entity, the definition of an Orist is almost irrelevant, but if you like, it can refer to: a personality subclass of over thinkers; one who is proud to be labelled a dork; a pedantic stickler for the rules; someone who is spatially unaware (in that they trip on their own feet, often walk into door frames no matter how wide, and have a much higher likelihood of dropping and/or breaking that which is valuable or important); and I can guarantee that an Orist is certainly, no matter how you look at it, never ever sexy.

Hence, I am proudly, an Orist.

I am also a medical doctor, now a few years out of university, with no clear career goal as yet. I will have some interesting work stories as they develop (maintaining confidentiality of course)

I suffer from narcolepsy. While I have not ever collapsed like they do in movies, I have fallen asleep in some awkward situations and need to take medication to maintain a normal level of alertness (think of the level of functioning you have after your first cup of coffee, and probably halve that).

I intend to use this blog as a means of sharing my theories on the way life, people and the world work, and I will always appreciate comments and feedback. With any luck, I can help myself reduce the over thinking that, more often than not, leads me to trouble, and might just have some of the advice or answers you were looking for.

So. Greetings. That’s me – your first blogging narcoleptic doctor friend.

Signing off,

– Dr Orist.


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The Orist.

Speaking an infinite deal of nothing (Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice).

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