East Lothian golfer who lost mum to motor neurone disease opens up on trauma and makes Doddie Aid 2026 call
An East Lothian professional golfer has spoken about the pain and trauma families face when someone close to them is living with motor neurone disease (MND) – describing the final stages of her mother’s illness as “the worst experience of my life”.
Tara Carrick, 30, who lives in Gullane, said her family’s experience caring for her mum, Claire Mactaggart, who died last year, hammered home how much of the burden of MND can fall on relatives – from managing appointments and equipment to witnessing moments “nobody would want to see”.
“You’re no longer just a daughter, or a husband – you’re a carer,” she said. “The way your relationship changes is one of the hardest parts to get your head around.”
Tara, who competes on the LET Access Tour and is now an ambassador for My Name’5 Doddie Foundation, the charity founded by the late Scotland rugby international and MND campaigner Doddie Weir, said she wanted to highlight the impact of MND on families, and encourage people to take part in Doddie Aid, the Foundation’s annual fundraising challenge.
MND is a life-limiting illness that affects the brain and nerves, leading to progressive muscle weakness. The average life expectancy is just 18 months from diagnosis, and there is currently no cure, and very limited treatment. Tara said families can be left combining grief with practical care and advocacy.
The first signs of Claire’s illness appeared in January 2024, when she developed slurred speech. Months of tests followed and Tara assumed it might be a stroke. “MND never crossed my mind,” she said.
The diagnosis came on July 1 2024 while Tara, who turned professional in 2021, was competing in Sweden. Her family, dad Stuart, and older sister Gina, waited until she returned home to tell her.
“That’s what Doddie’s had,” she remembered thinking. “I knew instantly it was a death sentence. You never think it will happen to you – and then boom, life will never be the same again.”
Tara, who grew up in the family home near Hawick, cried in front of her mum only once, early on, and that Claire’s response changed how they coped.
“She told me, ‘I only get upset because you get upset. Life doesn't end with my diagnosis and lets not allow it to take more than it already has,’” Tara said. “From then, we were joyful and happy. That’s how mum wanted to live. The switch flicked.”
Claire did not want to know every detail of what lay ahead, but Tara said she felt driven to understand what was coming.
“Knowing what’s coming was my coping mechanism,” she said. “I wanted to get ahead of it.”
Tara described her mum as ‘the truest heart’, someone who ‘never complained about anything’ – even as the illness took hold. Claire had been a riding instructor before spending 30 years as an additional support needs assistant, working one-to-one with autistic children.
“There’s a tragic irony in it,” Tara said. “She taught people how to speak and communicate – and then she lost her own voice.”
Claire was also central to Tara’s golf career, alongside dad Stuart, a bloodstock agent in the horseracing industry, with both parents taking her to junior competitions and practice, and then travelling to tournaments and supporting her through the pressure of elite sport.
“She came to all my tournaments,” Tara said. “She was always there. She was the chief of snacks, juice – everything.”
After the diagnosis, Tara wanted to stop competing to focus on her mum’s care, but Claire pushed her to keep playing for as long as possible so they could continue sharing trips and time together. By me continuing to live my dreams, she could live hers,” Tara said.
“Everybody called her Queen Claire,” Tara added. “She felt like a queen, because she was a queen. It makes me really happy that she was able to find joy in continuing to travel with me.”
As the disease progressed, Tara said it took ‘one thing after another’ from her mum – speech, swallowing, then the move to soft foods, a feeding tube, the loss of hand movement and mounting exhaustion.
“She was strong, bold, no [nonsense] from anybody,” she said. “And this disease took everything. It makes somebody unrecognisable.”
Tara said her mother’s final year exposed gaps in the health system’s readiness for MND, particularly when other illnesses strike. Claire developed pneumonia in June 2025 and spent nine days in hospital.
Tara believes there needs to be greater awareness in acute care settings of how MND affects breathing, swallowing and recovery from respiratory infections, and said her family’s experience of emergency care added avoidable distress.
“I’d have killed for somewhere like the Rob Burrow Centre, especially when mum had pneumonia,” she said, referring to the specialist MND centre in Leeds. “We sat in an ambulance outside for two and a half hours, then 10 hours we were in A&E with somebody who has a terminal disease. That’s what makes it so much more traumatic.”
“It’s bad enough knowing there’s no cure,” she added. “Knowing the care, knowledge and understanding of MND isn’t there for everybody makes it worse. It isn’t good enough.”
Tara said that while research and the search for treatments must remain the ultimate goal, families also need specialist support ‘along the road’ – including clear pathways and spaces designed for people with MND so they are not repeatedly pushed through crisis care.
“A cure has to be the ultimate aim, but it will take time to get there,” she said. “In the meantime there are other, equally important things. People with that diagnosis need to know there’s somewhere they can go.”
She singled out the Margaret Kerr palliative care ward at Borders General Hospital, where Claire was cared for after a second bout of pneumonia, for praise, describing it as a place of expertise and calm in her mother’s final days.
“My dad had to shout from the rooftops to get her in, but when she went into the Margaret Kerr, it was different,” she said. “Peace, tranquillity – they knew what to do. It didn’t change how difficult those final moments are.
“There came a moment when her smile, which had been a constant through everything, was gone,” she said. “She smiled through it all, then it stopped.”
Claire died on a Sunday, with Tara describing the experience as cruel and traumatic for families as well as the person living with the disease.
“There is nothing peaceful,” she said. “It’s cruel, and we’ll take what we witnessed with us forever.”
For Tara, one bright, defining memory shines above all others – her wedding last year. She married her husband, Angus, on 29 March 2025. After the diagnosis, she said one of her first thoughts was that her mum might not see her get married.
In the months before the wedding, she said Claire seemed to ‘peak’, holding steady long enough to attend. It was a “victory in our journey and proof that her determination and refusal to back down did not allow MND to steal special moments”.
“For one day people forgot about MND,” Tara said. Claire danced ‘all night’, even emerging following an outfit change wearing sparkly red trainers with her second dress of the day.
Tara said: “The joy in her face. she was beaming. I was the bride, but she stole the show. It’s my favourite day ever – such an honour – and I’ll never forget it.”
Now, Tara said she is determined to bang the drum for families living with MND, and to help raise funds for both research and practical support.
“People like my mum can’t die for nothing,” she said. “There has to be something positive and good from the suffering. If that’s raising money and awareness that takes us closer to a cure, or makes some difference, then that must be it.”
Tara is urging people to sign up to Doddie Aid, My Name’5 Doddie Foundation’s annual fundraising challenge founded by former Scotland rugby captain and Doddie’s friend and former teammate Rob Wainwright.
For five weeks from January 1, participants choose an activity – such as walking, running, cycling or swimming – log their miles during the challenge period, and raise money to support research and care.
“This disease doesn’t just happen to one person,” Tara said. “It happens to whole families. People often ask me what they can do to help – the first thing is to sign up for Doddie Aid.
“It gives meaning to those we have lost and honours those who have fought this disease, and takes us closer to a future where no family has to go through what we did.”
To take part in Doddie Aid, sign up via myname5doddie.co.uk and search Doddie Aid, or visit doddieaid.com.