Post by Tamika Strader on May 30, 2022 4:55:31 GMT -5
OOC: Off Camera, first part of my promo for NPC match on June Edition of Massacre. Part I flowed out and I couldn't sleep so here it is.
May 30th, 2022
Victoria Hospital
London, Ontario Canada
Meghan Marie Strader had lived a hard thirty-seven years. From her mother dying during her birth, finding out her father wasn’t her father but the almost seven-foot biker/wrestler Scott Nash Strader was, to giving up Victoria when she was born because she didn’t know Cara came after her passing out from delivery and the countless times she had her heart stomped on and broken, mainly by SNS himself.
Of course, there were many great times in her life: finding out she had a brother and a sister in John and Tamika. Her twin babes are barely two and a half years old with her husband, the legendary wrestler Dustin Kelser known famously as Thunderwolf. Her connection to her dad’s mom, her “Gran” Hannah Strader. Her twin uncles, Payton and Kaleb, and her long-time manager and aunt, Vanessa Strader.
Her husband had found a lump in her breast a few weeks before and made her book an appointment to get it checked out. Meghan wasn’t a fan of the insanely greedy American Healthsystem. She used the fact she is a born Canadian to be checked out at one of the top cancer research hospitals in North America, located in her hometown of London, Ontario. She had watched the hospital grow from when she was a little girl. The Shriners Children Hospital was a major part of it and made it possible for a tonne of cancer research.
Meghan flips through a Cosmopolitan from the magazine rack and pulls her N95 white mask from her face for a second to get some fresher air on the skin above her lips and chin, welcomed after the hotness of her breath. Her daughter Lizzie plays on the floor in front of her and puts down a building block one of the nurses brought in for her. She pulls herself up by Meghan’s form-fitting Levi Strauss denim and coos up at her mom, babbling off some nonsense. She looks down at her sweet child’s icy blue eyes and auburn hair. Putting down her magazine, she picks up Lizzie, placing her on her knee and bouncing her up and down. Little Clay was with his big sister, Cara. Meghan was hoping she remembered to take her brain medication, so she didn’t forget the kid on the playground, but luckily Jake (Cara’s high school boyfriend and legendary CUCK) was there to keep an eye on both.
“I know, baby, it shouldn’t be too much longer,” she says as her little girl giggles.
“Mrs. Kelser? Dr. Furtado is ready to see you,” the nurse from behind the desk across the sterile doctors' office in the massive hospital. “We can watch your little girl if you’d like.”
“No, that’s ok. She can keep me company,” she says, holding Lizzie in her arms. “Just down the hall?” she asks, pulling her top back up as Lizzie giggles away, trying to make her mom flash the nurse. The nurse nods and goes back to her paperwork, obviously overworked.
Meghan looks at her Apple Watch as she sits in the doctor’s room, as Lizzie sits on her mom’s lap, snuggled back into her right arm, falling asleep. After ten minutes of waiting, a dark-haired fair looking man walks in, white doctor's coat on, blue scrub pants, and a folder under his arm.
“Mrs. Kelser.. Or do you prefer Miss Strader?” he asks, sitting down and smiling at her adorable daughter.
“Meghan is fine, Dr. Furtado. Are those results of my mammogram and x-rays?”
“And your bloodwork.”
Meghan can feel the anxiousness building up inside her chest, her heart beating faster and harder. He has the folder open and sighs.
“So… what’s the word?”
“Well, the good news is that the lump isn’t cancerous,” he says, but Meghan sees something else is coming, whether she is ready for it or not. “We however found a mass about eight centimetres wide on your lungs.”
The image of the Marlboro Man appears in her mind.
“We found multiple masses in both thighs, as well as on your pancreas, signalling that it has spread into your bones and blood,” he says, and Meghan feels his empathy; however, he isn’t done. “Unfortunately, Meghan, you have just about reached stage four in the bone cancer progression.”
Meghan is listening, but she is also lost in thought: Veronica, Cara, Clay, Elizabeth, her husband Dustin, and her baby sister Tamika. He continues to talk and explain the rest of the results, but to put a sound to what she is hearing, it would be the equivalent of the teachers talking to the Peanuts characters in class.
“So… how long do I have, Dr. Furtado?’ the normally tough chick exterior she portrayed on television, in the ring, and just in her day-to-day life was cracking. She was scared, and that wasn’t something she felt since Cara’s father kidnapped her and forced SNS to rescue her live at a wrestling event.
“Well, judging by the progression… two to three months. While there isn’t much we can do this far into the disease’s growth, I can write you a few opiate prescriptions to help manage pain and for when the time comes,” he says, his face saddening as he looks at little Lizzie as she has started to stir.
Meghan fights back the tears as she looks down at her small angel, all her kids' faces flashing before her eyes.
Twenty minutes later, Meghan is sitting in her 1977 Pontiac Trans Am, Bandit Edition, which she keeps in London for when she is home, looking at Lizzie in her car seat in the backseat via the rearview mirror. “Nothing Else Matters” plays on the local rock radio station, FM96, over the Bose stereo system she had installed. Like her sister, she had a love of music, and more so when it’s loud.
“My babies… this will crush my daughters… my husband… oh god, John and Tamika.”
“Love you, mamabeer,” Meghan looked back in the mirror at her smiling little one, and she chuckles when she said mamabeer, trying to imitate Cara’s mamabear moniker she ad been given.
“Mamabear loves you too, sweet, sweet angel,” she blows the wee one a kiss. “I think your brother is back at the house with Cara. Let’s go see them. Auntie Meeka should be there too!”
The little girl smiles big at the mentions of her big sister and auntie as Meghan wipes away the tears forming, ruining the little make-up she did have on.
Meghan sat in the very aged and dated living room of the house Scott Nash Strader had bought over twenty-five years ago with a floor-model Panasonic box television in the corner, brown leather couch, ugly beige shag carpeting, and photos hanging on the wall of teenage versions of Meghan, Tamika and John.
Meghan was in a brown la-z-boy and turned towards the three-person couch where her brother sat on the left, Veronica in the middle, and Tamika on the right side. Cara was on the floor playing with Clay and Elizabeth. Meghan had already had the conversation with Dustin via facetime and would have one-on-one time with him soon, but her focus was on telling her immediate family. Luckily John was in town for Club business with his London Chapter, while Veronica and Tamika had flown back with Meghan. Cara had returned to London to get her head back on right.
“Megz, what’s going on?” Tamika asks with a bit of concern, trying to read her sister’s thoughts.
“Yeah, got us a bit worried,” John adds, taking Veronica’s hand and holding it tightly as he can see she is tense with worry.
Meghan looks at them, lowers her head, sighs, and looks back up at them; the tears already starting to form, and it suddenly sets in with the family that bad news was coming. Meghan looks up at the mantle above the fireplace to the left of the old TV that has a picture of Scott Strader and Elizabeth Smith as fresh-faced eighteen-year-old teenagers on it, most likely Meghan growing in Liz’s belly.
“About a month ago, Dustin found a lump on my left breast and had me book an appointment to get it checked out,” the words choking out.
“Wait, do you have breast cancer, mamabear?!” Cara’s voice cracks as she asks her question.
“No, the lump was benign. I don’t have breast cancer.”
“Thank God, mom. We are glad to hear that,” Veronica says, relaying the feelings they were all having, but the twins were laughing and cooing, too young to understand what was going on.
“Yeah, no, that’s the good news. The bad news is,” she trails off, which makes Tamika get up and walk over beside her, squatting down, taking her hand in hers, and places her forehead against Meghan’s, looking into her big sister’s icy blue eyes.
“Hey, talk to us. We love you,” she says reassuringly. Meghan nods and wipes her tears away as her two oldest kids look worried, as does John.
“I have pancreatic, blood and bone cancer. Basically, in stage four.”
The room falls deathly quiet. Tamika’s hand comes to her mouth, covering her gasp as she drops to her knees from the squatting position she was in. John buries his face in his hands. Veronica slid down off the couch beside Cara, putting her arm around her as they both hold onto their tiny siblings.
“What does that mean? What are the treatments?” John asks, the sound of pleading in the tone of his question. Tamika looks up at Meghan, reaches up, touching her cheek, and Meghan snuggles her hand between her rosy and warm cheek and shoulder. Tamika answers, knowing John should know better after they lost their mom to cancer.
“There isn’t at the point of Stage Four… how much time did they give you, Megz?”
“Three months at the most… if I am lucky,” she finally breaks, starting to cry, and it becomes heavy sobs. Veronica and Cara have moved closer, each hugging one of her legs as the little babes waddle forward to join in on the hugging. John gets up, walks to his big sister, and kisses her on the forehead before walking out of the room, where a loud crash and profanity leave his usually calm demeanour. Tamika sits on the armrest of the recliner and leans against Meghan. Meghan’s head rests against Tamika’s side as her hands stroke the hair of both Cara and Veronica, who are both uncharacteristically silent.
“Girls, Meeks… I have had a really great life. A lot of bad shit has happened to me, to all of you, but I was given four wonderful children, two I never got to see grow, and now two I won’t be able to,” she says, looking down at her kids. “I never had a mom growing up, but the sitcom of my life with Steven and Scott raising me was a good one. I got to have an excellent career in the wrestling business for twenty-one years, holding many tag team titles. Even though I never got that singles title I craved, I have gotten to watch my tag partner, best friend, and little sister rock the OCW singles division. You, Veronica… I am so proud of the woman you have become, and I know Victoria would be too. Cara, you are such a sweet and loving soul who also has done well for herself… I am so sorry I am leaving you, but I’m not dead yet,” she says shakily. Veronica looks up at her.
“Mom, you can’t wrestle next week, not like this.”
“I agree with Ronnie, Megz. You gotta cancel that match; you have to retire and be with your family,” Tamika’s voice shakes as equally as Meghan’s did.
“No, I am not doing that. I don’t have a lot of time left, and I am not going to give in to this just because it’s taking me away from all of you. I am going to keep living my life until there isn’t one to live anymore….”
It would be a long evening for the family, trying to wrap their minds around Meghan’s diagnosis. The one thing for sure for the Strader family, things would truly never be the same.
Ever again.
May 30th, 2022
Victoria Hospital
London, Ontario Canada
Meghan Marie Strader had lived a hard thirty-seven years. From her mother dying during her birth, finding out her father wasn’t her father but the almost seven-foot biker/wrestler Scott Nash Strader was, to giving up Victoria when she was born because she didn’t know Cara came after her passing out from delivery and the countless times she had her heart stomped on and broken, mainly by SNS himself.
Of course, there were many great times in her life: finding out she had a brother and a sister in John and Tamika. Her twin babes are barely two and a half years old with her husband, the legendary wrestler Dustin Kelser known famously as Thunderwolf. Her connection to her dad’s mom, her “Gran” Hannah Strader. Her twin uncles, Payton and Kaleb, and her long-time manager and aunt, Vanessa Strader.
Her husband had found a lump in her breast a few weeks before and made her book an appointment to get it checked out. Meghan wasn’t a fan of the insanely greedy American Healthsystem. She used the fact she is a born Canadian to be checked out at one of the top cancer research hospitals in North America, located in her hometown of London, Ontario. She had watched the hospital grow from when she was a little girl. The Shriners Children Hospital was a major part of it and made it possible for a tonne of cancer research.
Meghan flips through a Cosmopolitan from the magazine rack and pulls her N95 white mask from her face for a second to get some fresher air on the skin above her lips and chin, welcomed after the hotness of her breath. Her daughter Lizzie plays on the floor in front of her and puts down a building block one of the nurses brought in for her. She pulls herself up by Meghan’s form-fitting Levi Strauss denim and coos up at her mom, babbling off some nonsense. She looks down at her sweet child’s icy blue eyes and auburn hair. Putting down her magazine, she picks up Lizzie, placing her on her knee and bouncing her up and down. Little Clay was with his big sister, Cara. Meghan was hoping she remembered to take her brain medication, so she didn’t forget the kid on the playground, but luckily Jake (Cara’s high school boyfriend and legendary CUCK) was there to keep an eye on both.
“I know, baby, it shouldn’t be too much longer,” she says as her little girl giggles.
“Mrs. Kelser? Dr. Furtado is ready to see you,” the nurse from behind the desk across the sterile doctors' office in the massive hospital. “We can watch your little girl if you’d like.”
“No, that’s ok. She can keep me company,” she says, holding Lizzie in her arms. “Just down the hall?” she asks, pulling her top back up as Lizzie giggles away, trying to make her mom flash the nurse. The nurse nods and goes back to her paperwork, obviously overworked.
Meghan looks at her Apple Watch as she sits in the doctor’s room, as Lizzie sits on her mom’s lap, snuggled back into her right arm, falling asleep. After ten minutes of waiting, a dark-haired fair looking man walks in, white doctor's coat on, blue scrub pants, and a folder under his arm.
“Mrs. Kelser.. Or do you prefer Miss Strader?” he asks, sitting down and smiling at her adorable daughter.
“Meghan is fine, Dr. Furtado. Are those results of my mammogram and x-rays?”
“And your bloodwork.”
Meghan can feel the anxiousness building up inside her chest, her heart beating faster and harder. He has the folder open and sighs.
“So… what’s the word?”
“Well, the good news is that the lump isn’t cancerous,” he says, but Meghan sees something else is coming, whether she is ready for it or not. “We however found a mass about eight centimetres wide on your lungs.”
The image of the Marlboro Man appears in her mind.
“We found multiple masses in both thighs, as well as on your pancreas, signalling that it has spread into your bones and blood,” he says, and Meghan feels his empathy; however, he isn’t done. “Unfortunately, Meghan, you have just about reached stage four in the bone cancer progression.”
Meghan is listening, but she is also lost in thought: Veronica, Cara, Clay, Elizabeth, her husband Dustin, and her baby sister Tamika. He continues to talk and explain the rest of the results, but to put a sound to what she is hearing, it would be the equivalent of the teachers talking to the Peanuts characters in class.
“So… how long do I have, Dr. Furtado?’ the normally tough chick exterior she portrayed on television, in the ring, and just in her day-to-day life was cracking. She was scared, and that wasn’t something she felt since Cara’s father kidnapped her and forced SNS to rescue her live at a wrestling event.
“Well, judging by the progression… two to three months. While there isn’t much we can do this far into the disease’s growth, I can write you a few opiate prescriptions to help manage pain and for when the time comes,” he says, his face saddening as he looks at little Lizzie as she has started to stir.
Meghan fights back the tears as she looks down at her small angel, all her kids' faces flashing before her eyes.
Twenty minutes later, Meghan is sitting in her 1977 Pontiac Trans Am, Bandit Edition, which she keeps in London for when she is home, looking at Lizzie in her car seat in the backseat via the rearview mirror. “Nothing Else Matters” plays on the local rock radio station, FM96, over the Bose stereo system she had installed. Like her sister, she had a love of music, and more so when it’s loud.
“My babies… this will crush my daughters… my husband… oh god, John and Tamika.”
“Love you, mamabeer,” Meghan looked back in the mirror at her smiling little one, and she chuckles when she said mamabeer, trying to imitate Cara’s mamabear moniker she ad been given.
“Mamabear loves you too, sweet, sweet angel,” she blows the wee one a kiss. “I think your brother is back at the house with Cara. Let’s go see them. Auntie Meeka should be there too!”
The little girl smiles big at the mentions of her big sister and auntie as Meghan wipes away the tears forming, ruining the little make-up she did have on.
Meghan sat in the very aged and dated living room of the house Scott Nash Strader had bought over twenty-five years ago with a floor-model Panasonic box television in the corner, brown leather couch, ugly beige shag carpeting, and photos hanging on the wall of teenage versions of Meghan, Tamika and John.
Meghan was in a brown la-z-boy and turned towards the three-person couch where her brother sat on the left, Veronica in the middle, and Tamika on the right side. Cara was on the floor playing with Clay and Elizabeth. Meghan had already had the conversation with Dustin via facetime and would have one-on-one time with him soon, but her focus was on telling her immediate family. Luckily John was in town for Club business with his London Chapter, while Veronica and Tamika had flown back with Meghan. Cara had returned to London to get her head back on right.
“Megz, what’s going on?” Tamika asks with a bit of concern, trying to read her sister’s thoughts.
“Yeah, got us a bit worried,” John adds, taking Veronica’s hand and holding it tightly as he can see she is tense with worry.
Meghan looks at them, lowers her head, sighs, and looks back up at them; the tears already starting to form, and it suddenly sets in with the family that bad news was coming. Meghan looks up at the mantle above the fireplace to the left of the old TV that has a picture of Scott Strader and Elizabeth Smith as fresh-faced eighteen-year-old teenagers on it, most likely Meghan growing in Liz’s belly.
“About a month ago, Dustin found a lump on my left breast and had me book an appointment to get it checked out,” the words choking out.
“Wait, do you have breast cancer, mamabear?!” Cara’s voice cracks as she asks her question.
“No, the lump was benign. I don’t have breast cancer.”
“Thank God, mom. We are glad to hear that,” Veronica says, relaying the feelings they were all having, but the twins were laughing and cooing, too young to understand what was going on.
“Yeah, no, that’s the good news. The bad news is,” she trails off, which makes Tamika get up and walk over beside her, squatting down, taking her hand in hers, and places her forehead against Meghan’s, looking into her big sister’s icy blue eyes.
“Hey, talk to us. We love you,” she says reassuringly. Meghan nods and wipes her tears away as her two oldest kids look worried, as does John.
“I have pancreatic, blood and bone cancer. Basically, in stage four.”
The room falls deathly quiet. Tamika’s hand comes to her mouth, covering her gasp as she drops to her knees from the squatting position she was in. John buries his face in his hands. Veronica slid down off the couch beside Cara, putting her arm around her as they both hold onto their tiny siblings.
“What does that mean? What are the treatments?” John asks, the sound of pleading in the tone of his question. Tamika looks up at Meghan, reaches up, touching her cheek, and Meghan snuggles her hand between her rosy and warm cheek and shoulder. Tamika answers, knowing John should know better after they lost their mom to cancer.
“There isn’t at the point of Stage Four… how much time did they give you, Megz?”
“Three months at the most… if I am lucky,” she finally breaks, starting to cry, and it becomes heavy sobs. Veronica and Cara have moved closer, each hugging one of her legs as the little babes waddle forward to join in on the hugging. John gets up, walks to his big sister, and kisses her on the forehead before walking out of the room, where a loud crash and profanity leave his usually calm demeanour. Tamika sits on the armrest of the recliner and leans against Meghan. Meghan’s head rests against Tamika’s side as her hands stroke the hair of both Cara and Veronica, who are both uncharacteristically silent.
“Girls, Meeks… I have had a really great life. A lot of bad shit has happened to me, to all of you, but I was given four wonderful children, two I never got to see grow, and now two I won’t be able to,” she says, looking down at her kids. “I never had a mom growing up, but the sitcom of my life with Steven and Scott raising me was a good one. I got to have an excellent career in the wrestling business for twenty-one years, holding many tag team titles. Even though I never got that singles title I craved, I have gotten to watch my tag partner, best friend, and little sister rock the OCW singles division. You, Veronica… I am so proud of the woman you have become, and I know Victoria would be too. Cara, you are such a sweet and loving soul who also has done well for herself… I am so sorry I am leaving you, but I’m not dead yet,” she says shakily. Veronica looks up at her.
“Mom, you can’t wrestle next week, not like this.”
“I agree with Ronnie, Megz. You gotta cancel that match; you have to retire and be with your family,” Tamika’s voice shakes as equally as Meghan’s did.
“No, I am not doing that. I don’t have a lot of time left, and I am not going to give in to this just because it’s taking me away from all of you. I am going to keep living my life until there isn’t one to live anymore….”
It would be a long evening for the family, trying to wrap their minds around Meghan’s diagnosis. The one thing for sure for the Strader family, things would truly never be the same.
Ever again.
