As a boy, I had a way with words. I could write a story, hold a reader's attention, and pick up a new language faster than most.
But at four years old, white patches began to appear on my skin. Vitiligo ran on both sides of my family, yet I was the only one it found. Think how big a small birthmark feels to a growing child. Mine were large white patches around my eyes and across my body. I felt like everyone was staring.
At school, my interests didn't always match the crowd's. While others lived for the playground games, I was drawn to other things, and that set me a little further apart. For years, my confidence and my sense of self took a real battering. So I did my talking on paper, where I was at my sharpest.
My sixth form tutor, Mrs Heaven, saw it. "This boy belongs in the arts," she told my parents. My mum agreed: let him do what he loves.
My dad disagreed. Science, he said, firmly. He moved me to a new sixth form in Richmond, surrounded by future doctors and scientists. That's where I discovered optometry, and once I found it, I gave it everything.
Then one day, something in me shifted. I'd had enough of hiding. I decided to own my life, my skin and my abilities. People who liked me would like me, and those who didn't, didn't. Either way, I'd live on my own terms. That relaxed confidence drew people in, and the friendships followed: real ones, built on me being myself.
Looking back, my dad's decision was a gift. Science gave me structure and certainty when I needed it most. And everything I thought I'd left behind came with me: my feel for language, my empathy, my need to connect with people.
Today, optometry is where I flourish. I went on to earn my Independent Prescribing qualification with distinction, which allows me to diagnose, treat and prescribe for a wide range of eye conditions. I specialise in dry eye treatment, scleral lens fitting and anterior segment care, and I've invested in the latest diagnostic equipment so my patients get the best possible chance of protecting their sight and keeping eye conditions closely monitored. I'm always bringing new ideas into the practice, because good care should never stand still.
Every eye examination is part science and part conversation: careful clinical judgement, combined with listening, explaining, and putting someone at ease. I've also learned that the "spiritual, not business-minded" person I thought I was could build a successful independent practice in the heart of Cambridge. Running Clamp has given me the freedom to deepen my yoga and meditation, sing classical meditative music, sketch, make pottery, and try out my languages whenever I travel. And these days you'll find me on the padel court, where the boy who once sat out the games is now making friends with every match.
Life has blessed me in ways I never expected: a beautiful wife and two healthy children who've found their joy in sport, and quite a few medals along the way. The games I never won, they win. I spend my working days helping people see clearly, and at home I've been given a different kind of sight. What I never saw through my own eyes, the Divine has let me see through theirs. For that, I'm endlessly grateful.
The kid who once wanted to disappear now leads meditation classes, guides groups and speaks to rooms full of people. 😊
Sometimes the path you didn't choose turns out to be the one you were made for.
When you sit in my chair, you get expert, up-to-date clinical care from someone who truly listens: the scientist and the storyteller.