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Andy Lockhart met the love of his life, Linda, when they were at school. Throughout their relationship, his career in the Army took them around the world and across the country through nearly three decades of service. After Andy retired to civvy street in 2015, the couple looked forward to a lifetime of weekends spent in the outdoors in their native Scotland. But in 2022, tragedy struck, and Linda suffered a life-changing illness that left Andy battling to bring his wife home.
“I met Linda when I was 13 and in high school, and that was it,” explains Andy. “We just became school sweethearts at that point. She was 14. We weren't going to get married until we were 28. That was the plan. I was going to do the Army. She was given her apprenticeship in a big clothing factory.”
“I left Larkhall in 1988 for a year to join the Army. I came back in October ’89. Linda at the time was 17, I was still 16. She told me she was pregnant. It was either leave her with her mum and dad and a child to bring up on her own, or be a man, marry her and take her with me. So, I did the latter and took her with me.”
“I did three major things in my life at that age. I got married in December and we moved away in January to Germany, just our lonesome, with no family around us. We had my son in the May, and I went to the first Gulf War in October. So, three major things in a 12-month period in my life at the age of 17.”
Andy’s career in the Army saw him rise from a young recruit to Divisional WO1 Regimental Sergeant Major. Linda was there with him, every step of way.
“Linda has followed me right through my military career,” says Andy. “Everywhere we've been posted, Linda has come with me. We've never been separated.”
After 27 years of service in the Royal Artillery, Andy decided to leave the military. He and Linda bought a house in Larkhall, South Lanarkshire before he retired in 2015. They were motivated to return to Scotland by their shared love of adventure training, sports, and walking.
On civvy street, Andy started a second career in heavy plant equipment training. Most weekends, the couple spent time together in the great outdoors. They planned to move closer to the mountains in a few years.
“We’re in a fantastic area that you can go do adventure training and sports because everything is really close by,” says Andy. “Weekends for us would be hillwalking. And then Sunday was my day off, getting away from life in general.”
“I’d head up north in the early morning to go climbing by myself, which Linda wasn’t too happy about because if anything ever happened to me, nobody would know. However, I’d leave notes to tell her exactly where I’d be, when I’d be back, emergency calls, all the rest of it.”
By the time I’d gotten to the hospital, she was already in the coma.
The first years of life on civvy street passed like this for the couple, but in 2022, the childhood sweethearts’ lives were forever changed.
“Two Februarys ago, on the Sunday, Linda was complaining that she was unwell,” Andy explains. “On Monday, she managed to do a telephone consultation with the doctor, and they said, ‘We think you’ve got a urine infection.’ So, she phoned me: ‘Can you pick up the tablets on the way home?’ No problem, I picked her tablets up.
“This went on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. She didn’t get out of bed. She wasn’t eating by Thursday, and by the Friday I was getting very, very worried about what was going on. She was having hallucinations. But the next-door neighbour had explained to me that when a female has a urine infection, it can send her mind a bit doolally.
“However, on the Friday morning I phoned Linda. She answered the phone, but it was like speaking to somebody who was on drugs or drunk. I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I asked her where she was, and she didn’t even know.”
Andy was supposed to start a test at his company but knew something was seriously wrong.
“So, I said to her, ‘Right, if you can understand me, just stay where you are. I won’t get to you now – I’m en route – but I’m going to phone your sister up.’ So, I phoned her sister and said, ‘Look, something’s wrong. You need to get around to the house.’ Her sister came round and phoned the doctor straight away. The doctor said, ‘Phone 999.’
“By the time I got here, the doctor was back on the phone. But Linda was unconscious on the floor, so I just picked her up and put her in my car. She was going into a coma. By the time I’d gotten to the hospital, she was already in the coma.
“She was admitted on the Friday. Her body was shutting down, even with her in the coma. She had renal failure, so she was on dialysis as well. They said she wouldn’t have lasted through Sunday.
“She was in a bubble tent. I had to get cleaned down and suited to get in the bubble tent because we were still in COVID. But she pulled through.
“On the Monday, her stats had held. And then that week she started to pull back, started to rise, albeit she was still in a coma and on dialysis. And then week three and a half, she started to come out of the coma. They started administering medication to enhance it and bring her out even quicker.”
Andy supported Linda throughout, visiting as often as he was allowed. Even when the hospital was locked down with a major outbreak of COVID, he called her at every opportunity so she would not be alone.
“I managed to get a mobile phone to her during her birthday period, which was the second week of March. On Monday morning, I phoned her like I had – every morning and lunchtime and the evenings. And she said, ‘I’m not feeling too good. I’ve got sickness and diarrhoea.’
Andy tried to reassure Linda. “I said, ‘Well, you’re in the hospital. There’s the shutdown for COVID, there are a lot of things going on. If you’re going to get sick, nine times out of ten you’re going to get sick in the hospital, but they’ve got the remedies to try and fix it.’
“And then I got a phone call at five to 12:00 saying that she’d had a brain seizure and a stroke. And that was it.”
In a few moments, Linda’s prognosis and her and Andy’s life together were forever changed.
I’m going to keep on fighting because Linda wouldn’t have let this go.
“The doctor said, ‘We don’t know how severe it is because she needs an MRI. We’ve only managed to take a scan, so we can see that she’s had brain damage, but there’s no bleeding in the brain. The MRI will show that and give us the full extent.
Linda needed to be moved to the neurology department at the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital in Glasgow for the MRI. Looking for answers, Andy faced an excruciating wait.
“Every day I was asking ‘When?’. They’d said to me she was going for an MRI, but we can’t move her because of her condition.
“It went on for seven weeks. Seven weeks she went without an MRI. And then the Saturday night, I had a mental breakdown. I woke up on the Sunday and I thought, ‘No, I’m not taking this anymore.’”
After seven weeks of tortuous waiting, Andy contacted his local representatives and the hospital administrators to advocate for Linda. Thanks to his perseverance, Linda received an MRI on Thursday.
“By that point, I’d gotten to know one of the doctors,” Andy says. “He’d just come out of the MRI, and I said, ‘Look, I know you can’t tell me because it needs to go away and get checked by professionals, but how bad is it?’ He said, ‘It is bad.’”
The wait was over, but the news was devastating. Linda’s brain damage from the seizure and stroke was life-changing.
“She was basically a two or three-year-old baby in a 51-year-old’s body. No communication. She could open her eyes. She couldn’t feed, so she had a tube in her tummy feeding her. She had oxygen and other machines keeping her body ticking over.”
Due to her needs, the doctors felt that Linda would never return home. But Andy refused to give up on the love of his life, knowing that she would have fought for him.
“I thought, ‘I’m not letting this go. I’m going to keep on fighting because Linda wouldn’t have let this go.
“My mental military background just kicked in. They’d said, ‘That’s it. You won’t get her home. She’ll be in 24-hour care for the rest of her life.’ And I thought, ‘No, that’s not happening.’”
They didn’t realise the mental attitude I had military-wise
Andy’s strength is undeniable, evidenced in his decades of military service and a self-proclaimed stubbornness. His fight for Linda took everything he had: a superhuman strength to survive under duress and a profound tenderness to love his wife at her most vulnerable.
“I would get up at 5:00 in the morning, go to work for 7:00, do a full shift in work, and then as soon as I’d finished at 4:00, I’d go up to the hospital, which was only a 10-minute drive away to sit with Linda. I’d take over from the nurse and I’d be there. I’d change her nappies and talk to her and play music in her ears and everything else. I just cared for her like anybody would do for a loved one.
“I fought to get her back to some sort of normality, to at least acknowledge me with some sort of communication, whether it be physical hands, feet, or speaking, or her eyes.”
With his care, attention, and love, Andy fought for Linda, always by her side.
“Over nearly seven months, I managed to get her back to walking, which the doctors and nurses were surprised about. But they didn’t know my background. With that year of being in the hospital they got to know me, but they didn’t realise the mental attitude I had military-wise and the things I’d done in the military. I don’t care what anybody tells me. Unless I fail in myself and I know I’ve failed myself, then nobody’s going to tell me I can’t do it. And that’s the attitude I had. And I know Linda would have had the same attitude as me, and that’s why I fought and fought every single day.
“Sundays were my day off and that was the only day I could do all my washing, drying, ironing. My Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, it all piled up. It was just a case of up in the morning, clothes on, and away like Superman. Sunday, that was my day to be normal, which wasn’t normal.”
Alongside a local social worker who recognised Andy’s determination and love, Andy fought to realise his goal: to bring Linda home.
“The social worker said to me, ‘What do you want?’ I said, ‘I want Linda home. If she's going to die, she's going to die in our house, not in a hospital bed somewhere.’ She went, ‘Right, let's fight for it then.’ I said, ‘Right, okay then.’”
The social worker helped Andy to apply for guardianship, which enabled him to legally have a say in what happened to Linda and her care. Andy waited for months for his day in court, but on the day, thanks to his dedication, love, and preparation, the decision was clear for the judge.
“We went to court and the judge had seen the paperwork 24 hours prior to us turning up with the case. We were literally there 5 minutes, and she signed the paperwork and said, ‘It's yours. Take your wife home.’”
It wasn’t for Linda, really, it was for me because I hadn’t stopped
With his guardianship approved, Andy’s attention turned to what he needed to prepare for Linda’s homecoming. With their family house spread over multiple floors, Andy knew that they needed to make some adaptations for Linda’s safety.
“Linda was mobile as long as somebody was with her and helping her up and down the stairs,” he explains.
Finding a way to ensure Linda could access both floors of their home meant that she’d have the comfort and dignity of living in their house as the couple had designed it.
Although Andy never thought he’d be the one accepting help from a charity, he put aside his pride when a contact he found at the hospital connected him with SSAFA Lanarkshire. Local caseworker John who was brimming with ideas.
“John met up with me and said, ‘Look, what do you need? Let's get a lift in,’” says Andy. “I was like, ‘I'm not knocking my house down, I've just built it.’ He says, ‘What else? We'll get one of these sit-in ones.’”
But the design of Andy and Linda’s stairwell meant that this wouldn’t work. Andy suggested an alternative.
“I said to John, ‘Look, I’ll get a lad I know at a company to do the best bespoke rail, and then that’s it.’ However, it didn’t end there.”
From Andy’s military service, he knew about the critical work that SSAFA does to ensure that no one in the Armed Forces family faces their challenges alone. But even in his time of need, he didn’t want to accept more than he felt was necessary.
“I said, ‘Look, the SSAFA money can do more help for other people. Linda and I, we’ve got savings. I’ve got a pension every month. There are other people out there who need more than what we need, and I can cope.’”
But SSAFA caseworker John saw what Andy wouldn’t or couldn’t say. Andy had been fighting alone, in survival mode. He had never reached out to anyone for help, even his family.
Not wanting his two children to suffer, Andy endured nearly 18 months of caring for Linda alone.
“I lied to my children the whole 18 months, nearly, of Linda being in hospital to then coming back home, that they weren’t allowed to see their mum. There was a reason behind that: I didn’t want them to see her until I knew that she was in a state already where they wouldn’t suffer. And it was the same with Linda’s sisters.”
Alone, Andy had carried his family on his back, protecting them while loving and fighting for his wife through her illness and rehabilitation. With Linda coming home, he’d continue to face challenges to support and care for her for life.
SSAFA caseworker John recognised the toll that the fight was taking on Andy and knew that SSAFA could do more for the couple. In addition to the stair rail, John arranged some time away for Andy and Linda.
“He got us five days at a log cabin for respite,” says Andy. “It wasn’t for Linda, really, it was for me because I hadn’t stopped, apart from Sundays.”
Even without Andy asking, SSAFA found a way to support him so he would be able to continue fighting for Linda.
Everybody needs help at some point in life.
Now at home, Linda lives with cognitive, behavioural, and physical disabilities. She will remain dependent on the care of others for the rest of her life. But because Andy fought for his wife, this care takes place in their house outside of Glasgow.
While Linda is supported by nurses during the day while Andy works, outside of his shifts he remains her carer. On weekends, Andy makes sure to get out to the hills the couple love so much, taking care of himself so he can continue to take care of his wife.
When possible, he takes Linda away to enjoy the outdoors together. His love for and commitment to her is clear in his every word.
“She's my best friend. She's not just my wife, she's my best friend. There was an old saying back in the day. People would say, ‘Your best friend's your mother. Never fall out with your mother because that's your best friend.’ Well, my wife, at a very young age, became my mother and proceeded through and carried the mantle. So, aye, she's not only my wife. She's my best friend.
“She cared for me, going back to the first Gulf War when I was blown up and brought back. So, it's just natural for me to say, 'Well, if she could do it for me, why can't I do it for her?'
“At the end of the day, a lot of people don't understand. I signed a bit of paper on the day that said that I would care for her through everything, whether it be rough or smooth, and I stick to it. So, that's the agreement I have with her. It's just one-sided now.”
Andy is a man of his word.
Caring for a loved one can be lonely. It can be difficult to ask for support, whatever form that takes, particularly for members of the armed forces community who often are independent, proud, and stubborn, like Andy.
“Swallow your pride,” recommends Andy. “I did. Simple as that. Everybody needs help, no matter who they are. Everybody needs help at some point in life. And no matter how large or how small it is, SSAFA jumped in and helped me.”
In opening himself up to support from SSAFA, Andy experienced the small, but life-changing impact of SSAFA having his back in his fight. The handrail was a bit of assistance that meant everything.
“It may have just been a small handrail at the end of the day, to any normal Joe out on the street,” says Andy, “but to me, it was massive. Absolutely massive.”
When Andy started to talk, the silence just rippled through
Grateful for the support he received, Andy has spoken at SSAFA events to raise awareness of the charity’s work. This includes Glasgow Curry and Quiz nights organised by his childhood friend, Scott, SSAFA’s Challenge and Community Events Officer for Scotland.
“It’s a full restaurant, there are still people away at the back who continue to enjoy their meal and drink and you can still hear chattering,” says Scott, describing a recent event. “But believe me, when Andy started to talk, the silence just rippled through. As a blind person, it was as if Glasgow came to a standstill. That’s the way it felt to me.”
“The honesty and openness on the night touched so many people. That’s something that just epitomises Andy. It epitomises him as a person. It epitomises the love he’s got for Linda, and it epitomises the strength and bravery that’s instilled in him from being an incredible member of the Armed Forces.”
In 2023, Andy had the idea to do the Kiltwalk to raise money for SSAFA. He had participated in the event before and saw the opportunity to help SSAFA support others.
“It kind of just clicked at that point,” he says, “Why not do it for SSAFA? I could return the favour that they did for me and help somebody else out that needs it.”
Andy has taken on the Kiltwalk in 2023 and 2024 with his characteristic stubbornness and will to succeed. It’s the same mettle that has carried him and Linda through the darkest times of their lives.
With pride in his voice, Scott explains, “Nobody has raised as much through the Kiltwalks for SSAFA as Andy Lockhart. In the last two years, he’s raised thousands. This year was the biggest ever entry and participation for Glasgow was 14,100 plus. For the Mighty Stride, which is 22.6 miles, Andy Lockhart was the first one over that line.”
It was a record time for the man who said, "Watch me," when doctors told him it couldn’t be done. And waiting for him at the finish line was the one he did it all for: Linda.