My Best Friend Jen (and Hank Marducas)

My Best Friend Jen (and Hank Marducas)

Some things were just meant to work effortlessly, eggs and bacon, Strawberries and cream, JayZ and Kanye West… Hollie Thorman and Jennifer Richards. 

We met in 2008 when I was working hard (or hardly working) as an admissions and enrolment temp at Havering College, at the time Jen worked full time as a course advisor there. We met in the early days of my illness, when scleroderma was really just a word to me - I was more out going, carefree, and it showed. Jen was fun loving too, and it didn’t take long for us to bond over alcohol fuelled nights out. Through Jen and Havering College I established a circle of good friends, who I saw a lot of over the summer of 2008.

As the nights drew in earlier, I began to prepare for another year of university, and returned to Leicester where I was studying a degree in BA Journalism and Media studies. Jen promised to stay in touch, and she did –we spoke every week while I was away from home. Along with other friends from Havering College, Jen visited Leicester to stay with me frequently while I was living there; the spatial distance between us irrelevant as the group grew closer and closer.

In February 2009 life delivered an unforseen devastating blow: one of our friends from Havering College died suddenly from an asthma attack. The beautiful Laura had been dancing the night away with Jen and I only days before, when they’d visited my Leicester home along with some other Havering College friends. Standing by Jen’s side in the church, watching our friend leave our lives in a white coffin, I knew our lives would never be the same. Laura’s death left a huge gaping hole in our friendship group, the situation was cruel and unfair and for a long time we all struggled to come to terms with it. It’s taken a long time to accept, but the silver lining, once we had finally chosen to see it, was that her passing cemented our friendship – and taught us never to take people you care about for granted.

I finished University in summer 2009, by which time Jen and I were best friends. At this time I once again returned to the College and enjoyed working with her in the same temp position. We went to Glastonbury Festival together that year, and remembered our gorgeous friend Laura who had purchased a ticket with us the same month she had departed our lives. Jen was sitting by my side in a tent, when I received a phone call telling me I had passed my degree with honours.  

After a summer of fun together, I decided to return to Leicester in Autumn 2010 to take on a MA degree in Journalism. This particular year was the hardest of my life, after Laura died things seemed to spiral downward at an alarming rate. My illness took a turn for the worst, Scleroderma was now much more than just a word and I struggled to concentrate on my studies. I felt lonely, isolated from all those who cared for me, I was constantly downbeat and forever feeling sorry for myself. It wasn’t long before I haw diagnosed with severe depression and prescribed drugs and counselling. When my studies took a hard hit, and I was forced to I re sit exam after exam over and over again, Jen was the most supportive of friends, never further than a phone call away to tell me I could do it. Over the next year she continued to make the train journey from Essex to the East Midlands to visit me, sometimes in a group and sometimes alone. She’ll never know how much of a difference her visits made.

Jen and I often joke that we are Peter Klaven and Sydney Fife from the film ‘I Love You, Man’ because our friendship seemed to spring up and blossom from nowhere, and we’ve come to rely on each other so heavily. Just like Peter there’s no secret I couldn’t share with Jen-Montana, and no situation that could make us feel awkward – we’re comfortable with each other, which is a virtue hard to find.

Jen has been an outstanding friend through my darkest most troubled moments. Unlike my other close friends, she’s only ever known me with scleroderma. However, until summer 2010 this illness had only ever been a footnote on the story of my life. Like others, Jen knew I had a rare illness, but like so many others in my life, she only knew what I had told her, and as it wasn’t restricting my life so to speak, it wasn’t really something we discussed all that often. I remember the time that changed, and it was set to the tune of ‘NDubZ’:

It was during a rendition of ‘Papa Can You Hear Me’ (that’s right – Jen and I have ‘impeccable’ music taste) at Glastonbury Festival 2010 it became more apparent that the illness was starting to affect my day to day life. My back aches were becoming more intense. I was struggling to stand for the duration of a performance, and found myself missing all the fun while I rested in the tent. While Jen sunk paper cup after paper cup of home brewed Somerset cider I popped dycodramol after dycodramol – and stayed sober.        

In October 2012 I arranged a celebrity autograph auction in aid of The Scleroderma Society, the night before which, Jen, a true friend, was by my side preparing smelly tuna sandwiches for the anticipated guests. On the night of the event she frantically tried to outbid others to win signed photos, and went home smug with Katie Piper and Maggie Smith tucked under her arm.  

Today, scleroderma is more often than not one of the main topics of conversation when Pistol and I get together. Now that I undergo more invasive treatments at The Royal Free, I keep Jen updated after each and every session. I know going forward she’s got my back (no pun intended!) She’s a rock to me, and I don’t know how I would cope without her. All that remains to be said is: Jen, I love you, man…

‘Latress on the menjay…’