I haven’t written much about health before, but over the last few months it’s become part of the backdrop of my decision-making — so this feels worth sharing.
A while ago, after a persistent facial rash that worsened with sun exposure, I went through a biopsy. At the time, skin cancer was a genuine concern.
A really good friend of mine from my university days passed away last year from Skin Cancer, so I was very aware of the dangers and it certainly was a big concern.
So when the results came back not cancer, there was real relief — the kind you feel immediately and deeply.
The doctor came to see me as I was getting the stitch taken out, and handed me the report – her first words were re-assuring, important to hear.
”Read this, then come through and see me. Don’t panic – it’s totally manageable, but you’ll need a lot of sun screen….”
That relief was then tempered by a different diagnosis: cutaneous lupus erythematosus (CLE).
CLE is a skin-limited autoimmune condition — not systemic lupus — and in day-to-day terms it’s very manageable. There’s a clear plan, specialist care, and no immediate impact on my ability to work or live fully. But it does come with one very clear and non-negotiable trigger: UV exposure.
That combination of relief and recalibration became a quiet inflection point — the moment we started thinking more deliberately about environment, sustainability, and where we wanted to be long-term.
Living in Australia, that question takes on a particular weight.
Australia’s sunlight is extraordinary — and unforgiving. Even with good sun habits, high-SPF protection, and sensible precautions, the baseline UV exposure here is simply higher than in most parts of the world. For most people, that’s a lifestyle footnote. For someone with a photosensitive autoimmune condition, it becomes a constant background constraint.
None of this is dramatic or debilitating — but it is cumulative. Managing CLE well is about reducing repeated immune activation over time, not “pushing through” flare after flare. Environment plays a role in that, whether we like it or not.
At the same time, this diagnosis prompted some honest reflection. I have a family history of lupus, and while my own condition is different and far milder, it does sharpen your sense of perspective. You start asking quieter questions about sustainability, stress, proximity to support, and what you want the next phase of life to look like.
That combination — health management, environment, and family — ultimately fed into a broader decision my wife and I were already circling: to return to the UK.
This isn’t a reaction, and it isn’t fear-driven. It’s a deliberate choice to put ourselves in an environment that makes long-term health management simpler, not harder — lower ambient UV, easier moderation, and closer proximity to family.
Australia has been an incredible chapter. We’ve built memories here that will always matter. But sometimes the most adult decision is recognising when a place that’s wonderful isn’t the right place anymore.
I’m sharing this not for sympathy, but for completeness. Health doesn’t always arrive as a crisis — sometimes it arrives as information, and what matters is what you do with it.
For me, it’s meant choosing an environment that works with me, not against me.