Progress Isn't Always a Straight Line

Learning to Adjust: Finding the Right Treatment Balance 

One thing I've learned about cancer treatment is that progress isn't always a straight line. There are good days, difficult days, and plenty of unexpected detours. Over the past several weeks, we've experienced all of the above as my medical team and I have worked to find the right balance with my treatment. 

When I first started taking Kisqali at the beginning of June, my oncology team monitored me very closely. It felt like I was having blood drawn almost every week, along with multiple electrocardiograms (EKGs) to check my heart rhythm. 

Less than a week after starting treatment, my white blood cell count dropped with my Absolute Neutrophil Count (ANC) at 1300. These lab results mean I have mild neutropenia, which is a lower-than-normal amount of infection-fighting white blood cells in your body. However, it was still above the 1000 threshold that they use. My EKG showed a QTc interval of 484 ms. This meant my heart's ventricles were taking slightly longer than normal to recharge between beats. As a result, I had to stop taking Kisqali on June 8 to give my body a chance to recover. 

On June 11, my ANC was at 1,086 (dropped but still above the 1000), and my EKG looked good enough for me to restart the medication. That weekend we were able to attend several graduation parties, which was wonderful. By Monday, though, I was completely exhausted. 

Unfortunately, the roller coaster continued. On June 15, my ANC dropped to 860, placing me in the severe neutropenia range. Once again, treatment had to be put on hold. I was rechecked on June 17, but my counts still hadn't recovered. Another round of blood work on June 23 showed they were still too low, meaning I needed yet another week off. At that point, my oncologist decided to lower my Kisqali dose to 400 mg in hopes that my body would tolerate it better. I was finally able to restart treatment on June 29 at the reduced dose and successfully completed my first 21-day cycle. 

My biggest complaint with Kisqali has been the nausea. For a few hours after taking it, I often felt queasy. Some days I tried taking a nap immediately afterward, and eventually I started taking my anti-nausea medication about 30 minutes before my dose to see if that would help. Some days it did, and some days it didn't. 

Even with treatment challenges, life didn't stop. During those three weeks, our family was able to enjoy our annual vacation with my parents and my brothers' families in Ripon, Wisconsin.

We also celebrated Gavin's graduation on July 12. Seeing so many friends and family come together to support him was incredibly special. It was definitely a hot day, but it couldn't have been more wonderful. I still can't believe my oldest kiddo will be heading off to UW–Platteville in just a few weeks! 

I also made it up to Montello on Kilby Lake, Brillion to celebrate my beautiful niece at her bridal shower, squeezed in a trip to the zoo, and had a great weekend up on Castle Rock Lake. Traveling while on medication has been an interesting challenge. Remembering to pack my Kisqali in a cooler and take it at the same time every day takes some planning. Thankfully, my family has become pretty good at reminding me, along with the many alarms we've set on my phone. 

As all the busy weekends wrapped up, Monday, July 20 brought another setback. My blood work showed that my white blood cell count had dropped to its lowest level yet.

Breaking Down the Math 

For all my students, friends, and family who appreciate the numbers, here's what the lab results mean: 

• WBC: 1.38 K/mcL – My total white blood cell count was virtually unchanged from my previous result of 1.35 K/mcL. 
• Neutrophils: 52.1% – The percentage of neutrophils dropped even further from 63.7%. 
• Current ANC: approximately 719 cells/µL – When you calculate the actual number (1,380 × 0.521), it shows my infection-fighting cells have continued their downward trend. 

Once again, I needed to stop taking Kisqali. Thankfully, this happened during my scheduled recovery week, so I was already due to be off the medication. Even so, my ANC remains below 1,000 cells/µL, which means I'm still considered to have severe neutropenia. My immune system is significantly compromised, leaving me much more vulnerable to infections. 

I'll be honest—this part has been frustrating. 

I'm still not able to run. I still can't sleep comfortably on my left side. I'm still dealing with quite a bit of pain, especially in my hips and lower back. The discomfort has been even worse since receiving my Lupron injection on Monday, which helps shut down my hormone production. 

I think we were all hoping I'd be feeling a little better by now. Instead, it's becoming clear that it's simply taking more time to figure out what my body can tolerate. Cancer treatment isn't one-size-fits-all, and sometimes finding the right medication and dosage requires patience. 

On Monday, July 27, we'll meet with Dr. Hake to discuss our next steps. We may lower my Kisqali dose even further, or we may decide it's time to pivot to an entirely different medication. My first follow-up scans are scheduled for August 10, right after we return from our family vacation to Tennessee. I'm looking forward to finally getting a better picture of how everything is responding. 

Despite everything, we're excited for our upcoming trip to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge. At the same time, I can't help but feel a little sad that I don't quite feel like myself. We're hoping I'll still be able to do some hiking, even if we have to stick to easier trails. Andy has already promised he'll carry me on his back if necessary! I also ordered myself a mobility scooter for our day at Dollywood, and I'm hoping it will help me enjoy the park without completely wearing myself out. 

Cancer has definitely taught me that plans change, progress isn't always linear, and sometimes the greatest victories aren't measured by miles hiked or medications tolerated. They're measured by making memories with the people you love, celebrating life's milestones, and continuing to move forward—one day, one appointment, and one step at a time. Thank you to everyone who continues to pray for us, check in on us, and encourage us through this journey. Your love and support mean more than you'll ever know.

Targeted Therapy, One Step at a Time

 June 1st - Targeted Therapy Starts

On Monday, I met with a member of Dr. Hake’s team. They reviewed all of my bloodwork to make sure everything looked good to begin the next phase of my treatment plan. We asked a lot of questions about the targeted therapy and left feeling informed and encouraged about what to expect.

While we were at the clinic, I also received another infusion to help strengthen my bones. One of the sweetest parts of the day was getting to reconnect with some of the nurses who cared for me 12 years ago during my initial breast cancer diagnosis. At one point, there were three of them gathered outside my room, just chatting and catching up.

Thank you to Andy’s mom and my sister-in-law Kris for coming with me. There was a lot of information to take in, and having extra ears—and extra minds thinking of questions—was such a gift.

Both Andy’s school and mine showed their support in the most incredible way—by wearing “Meinecke Strong” shirts as we stepped into this next phase of treatment. Seeing so many photos of students and staff proudly wearing the shirts on Meinecke Strong Day meant more than words can express. It truly touched our entire family. If you haven’t seen it yet, be sure to check out the Waterford Facebook post.

Park View Middle School Staff, Mukwonago

Fox River Middle School Staff, Waterford

The next step in my treatment is starting Kisqali (ribociclib), a medication used for hormone receptor-positive breast cancer. It’s been around for about eight years and has shown some phenomenal results. This is considered a targeted therapy rather than traditional chemotherapy. While chemotherapy attacks all rapidly dividing cells (including healthy ones), targeted therapies like Kisqali work differently. They specifically block proteins (CDK4 and CDK6) that my cancer cells rely on to grow and multiply. The goal is to slow or stop the cancer’s growth while sparing more of the healthy cells in my body.

My schedule will be three pills taken daily for 21 days, followed by 7 days off for recovery. The plan is to complete about three cycles and then do scans to see how things are progressing. The medication is delivered directly to our home and requires a signature, and it needs to be refrigerated. Yesterday (6/2), my mom and I went out to lunch, and I packed a little cooler to bring my meds along. I’ll gradually work on adjusting the timing so I can take it closer to breakfast instead of lunchtime.

We were also given very clear instructions on handling the medication. No one else should touch the pills. Some people even pour them into a cup to avoid contact. If I get sick, anyone helping me should wear gloves, and we should use towels that we’re okay throwing away if needed.

Like most medications, there’s a long list of potential side effects. The most common include low white blood cell counts, increased liver enzymes, nausea, fatigue, and headaches. Some patients also experience infections, hair thinning, cough, and rash. I would truly appreciate prayers for minimal side effects and that my body tolerates this medication well.

As for how long I’ll be on Kisqali—this is something I will continue taking as long as it’s working. If it stops being effective, Dr. Hake will adjust the plan and we’ll move on to something else. I’ve been told to think of this more like a chronic condition—something to manage and live with over time.

While that can feel overwhelming, I’m choosing to hold onto hope. Medicine continues to advance, treatments continue to improve, and I am surrounded by an incredible support system. One day at a time, one step at a time—I’m trusting that there is still so much life to live, and I’m not done fighting.

Grateful, Tired, and Moving Forward

May 27th - Last Radiation Treatment

Stage one of my treatment plan is complete. I’m incredibly grateful for my radiation team—especially Dr. Weyers and the radiation technicians. I truly looked forward to the daily check-ins, sharing little updates, and chatting with the nurses along the way. Dr. Weyers is simply amazing—she listens, answers every question thoughtfully, and never once made me feel rushed. At my final appointment, she did prepare me that the next few days would likely bring peak fatigue.

Over the past couple of days, I’ve continued working to manage the nausea. Most mornings start with an anti-nausea pill just to get moving. I’m thankful that my skin handled radiation well, but the fatigue has definitely been real. Even something as simple as walking across the track to cheer on Gavin at regionals was a challenge. By his second race, I needed help just getting back up to the bleachers—which is so not me.

There have been so many people who have stepped in to support us over these past weeks, and it’s hard to even begin to thank everyone. I’m especially grateful to my cousin Rhonda for taking me to so many appointments—you mean more to me than you know. Thank you to my cousin Kate, and to friends Liz and Jenny, for coming over and helping clean our home. And to everyone who has sent cards, messages, gifts, and meals—thank you. These are all things I haven’t been able to do, and your kindness has lifted such a weight, not just for me but for Andy as well.

So many people ask how I’m doing when they see me. My usual response is, “I’m hanging in there” or “I’m doing okay.” But what I really want to say is this—I hate this. I hate not being able to go outside and play games with my kids. I hate watching them play frisbee golf or basketball instead of jumping right in. I want to pick up a volleyball and bump it back and forth with Clara. I want to jump on the trampoline with them. I want to not be in constant pain or feel nauseous all day long. I miss being able to do everything I could before I got sick. I miss me.

I know people say to trust in God—that He has a purpose through all of this. And I do believe that. But some days, it’s just really hard.

The Ups and Downs of Healing

 Radiation Update - May 21st

Our home has been filled the most beautiful bouquets of flowers. Thank you to everyone who has stopped by, sent messages, cards, prayers, and encouragement—you truly brighten my days more than you know.

Radiation treatments have come with both ups and downs. The process itself is similar to getting an X-ray, just with a much stronger dose of radiation. Overall, it’s fairly simple—aside from having to go every day. The actual radiation is quick and not painful; the longest part is getting me lined up in the exact same position each time so the treatment is as precise as possible.  

When I first lie down (on a table that is definitely not cushioned), they position me using a mold for my legs. A cushion is placed between my feet, which are then secured to keep me from moving. From there, they align green laser lights with the three small tattoos I have to ensure everything is positioned correctly. Once they leave the room, they take images, adjust the table’s height and angle based on my simulation session, and then begin the radiation. The machine moves around me, targeting my lower back and left hip. After that, they come back in, reposition me using a fourth tattoo, and repeat the process—this time focusing on a spot in the middle of my back that has also been causing pain.

Mother's Day Plant

During the first few treatments, my biggest complaint was increased pain. Dr. Weyers had warned us this might happen as the treatment essentially “agitates” the cancer cells. Over Mother’s Day weekend, we kept things low-key. I was still moving slowly, and although they suggested a cane, I wasn’t quite ready for that. Thankfully, Andy and the kids were right there to help me get around. On Saturday, my friend Rosie came and spent the day with me. We did a little shopping and I finally made it out to the Gingerbread House in New Berlin for lunch—such a cute little spot!

Cuddling my 'mini me' on Mother's Day!

The following week brought extreme fatigue and nausea. My appetite dropped, and about 20–30 minutes after eating, I would feel sick. I tried saltine crackers with a bucket nearby, just in case. I felt weak—and honestly, I felt angry. I found myself questioning why I had to go through this again. Nights were especially hard. I couldn’t get comfortable in bed, couldn’t sleep on my sides, and the pain made rest nearly impossible. I felt miserable and cried a lot during that stretch.  

After meeting with Dr. Weyers, I was given anti-nausea medication, which helped at first. However, after a few doses, my tongue started to feel numb and thick, which made me wonder if I was having an allergic reaction. Since I’m not allergic to anything, it caught me off guard. We switched medications the next day, and that has been working much better. 

On Friday, May 15th, my best friend Kelly came down and spent the day with me. We managed to get almost all of my flower pots planted, which felt so good to accomplish. Later, our friend Stacy stopped by with Papa Murphy’s pizza and shared a few drinks with Andy—I think he really needed that 😊

By Saturday, May 16th, I was moving around much more comfortably. My limp was gone, the nausea felt under control, and although my back still hurt, I was hopeful things would continue improving—especially since my hip was starting to feel better. That day, I was able to go with Gavin to take pictures for his senior prom. It was a hot one for wearing a suit, but he looked incredibly handsome—though I may be a little biased 😊

  

On Monday, May 18th, I went in for my 9th treatment. I was feeling better, and my friend Nicole took me to my appointment. Afterward, we walked down to the neighborhood beach and back. Between the conversation and fresh air, I didn’t even realize we had walked two miles. It had been a long time since I was able to do that. It felt so good!

Tuesday, May 19th, my parents came down again to help with appointments. My mom joined me in meeting with a dietician—we asked a lot of questions and left reassured that I was already doing many things right, with just a few small tweaks to make. Later that day, I made it to a Park View track meet. Being there, hugging my athletes, and cheering them on filled my heart in a way I can’t fully describe. Coaching has always been something I love so much. Seeing some of them wearing “Meinecke Strong” shirts made it even more special.

That night, though, I was completely exhausted. Even so, I couldn't get my mind to shut off. At this point I got out of bed—possibly trying to get my watch to monitor my sleep—and something happened. I don’t know if I fainted or simply collapsed from weakness. I remember calling out for help and being face down on the floor, unable to move my arms or legs. Andy helped me back into bed, and slowly, the feeling returned.  

There are a lot of possible explanations. I may have taken too much pain medication—I took one after the meet, one before bed, and possibly another without realizing it. I had also pushed myself quite a bit over the previous two days with the long walk and standing for hours at the meet. Maybe it was a perfect storm of exhaustion, stress, and everything else my body is going through. We’re not entirely sure.

I am so incredibly thankful for my parents and the miles they continue to travel to be here for me. I’ve often thought about how hard it must be to watch your child go through something you can’t fix. Thank you for your strength, your love, your tears, and your constant support. I will always be your little girl, no matter what. I love you, Mom and Dad!

As I wrap this up, I’m reminded that fighting cancer is incredibly hard. The emotions are all over the place—anger, fear, stress, sadness—but also strength, positivity, gratitude, hope, and faith. Not just for me, but for everyone walking this journey alongside me—my family, my friends, my students.

I will continue to lean on all of you through every high and low.

You are my community.
You are my strength. 💛

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” — Psalm 46:1
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” — Philippians 4:13
The Lord gives strength to His people; the Lord blesses His people with peace.” — Psalm 29:11
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” — Isaiah 43:2

Meinecke Strong Shirts

Sharing the Facebook Post - Meinecke Strong Fundraiser

Our Waterford and Mukwonago communities are coming together to support the Meinecke family as Sheila Meinecke bravely battles cancer for the second time.

Many of you know the Meinecke family as amazing teachers, coaches, friends, colleagues, and all-around wonderful people. Now it's our turn to show up for them.

A "Meinecke Strong" shirt fundraiser has been organized, and $5 from every shirt purchased will go directly to the family to offset medical expenses during this difficult time.

If you'd like to support the Meineckes and help fill our community and surrounding communities with love and encouragement, you can order here:  

Meinecke Strong Fundraiser

A few details:

• Shirts are available in a variety of styles and price points
• $5 from each shirt purchased will go directly to the Meinecke family
• Order here: https://meineckestrong.itemorder.com/shop/home/

Orders close May 15, 2026

Held Up by Prayer - May 2nd

Words can hardly capture the overwhelming love and support that surrounded me on Saturday, May 2nd. It began simply—our cousin’s daughter, Sammie Wiebelhaus, reached out to ask if she and a few others could come pray with me. My son’s grade school friend, Colton Jansen, joined her in organizing what turned out to be a complete surprise—one that became a gathering far beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

What I didn’t expect was to walk out my front door and be met with a crowd of people—students I’ve taught in the past and present, my children’s friends, our family, and so many dear friends—all gathered for me.

As everyone joined together, placing a hand on the shoulder in front of them until that circle of support reached me, I felt something truly powerful. The presence of God in that moment was undeniable. Their prayers covered me with hope, love, and strength for the days ahead. They spoke boldly of God as our healer, believing in His power to perform miracles, and asking Him to bring healing over my body.

The students and adults who spoke shared such meaningful and heartfelt words—I will carry that moment with me forever. When it came time for me to speak, it was nearly impossible to hold back the emotion. The entire experience was deeply moving, but it also reminded me of something so important: good will come from this.

I am reminded that I am created with a purpose. A purpose that existed long before I was born and one that I will never outgrow—to glorify God and honor Him with my life.

As it says in Ephesians 2:10 (NIV): “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

We are called to do good—not simply for the sake of being good, but to live out the purpose God has uniquely prepared for each of us, with hearts that seek to serve Him.

He has a purpose for each of our lives—and He is faithful to carry it through.

Radiation Consultation

Radiation Consultation -  April 28

Andy and my mom came with me to my radiation consultation. When Dr. Weyers walked into the room, she had tears in her eyes and gave me a huge hug. She said, “You should not be here,” and I couldn’t have agreed more. From the very beginning, she was incredibly thorough, compassionate, and patient as she answered all of our questions.

Initially, her nurse explained that it could take almost two weeks to get in for the planning session, followed by another week or two for all of the calculations and treatment planning to be completed and reviewed. But after Dr. Weyers completed her initial examination, she said, “Let me see if we can get you started as soon as possible.”

By the end of the consultation, everything had changed. She scheduled me to begin the simulation planning session on Friday, May 1, with hopes of starting radiation treatment the following Wednesday.

Dr. Weyers recommended palliative radiation directed at my left hip and lumbar spine to help with pain control. We discussed the treatment planning and delivery process for external beam radiation, along with possible side effects including skin irritation, fatigue, nausea, and bladder or bowel irritation.

On Thursday, my daughter Clara and a group of girls from her Jam Choir stopped and sang a few songs for me. It was such a nice surprise and they did such beautiful job. 

• Seek Ye First
• By His Wounds we are Healed
• 10,000 Reasons (Blessed the Lord)

On Friday, May 1, my parents took me in for the simulation — the planning session for radiation treatment. During the appointment, I laid on the treatment table in the exact position that would be used during treatment. Immobilization devices, including molds for my legs, were created to help keep me perfectly still during each session.

They then performed specialized imaging scans to map the precise location of the tumors. Afterward, the team placed four small markings on my skin to ensure the radiation would be aimed at the exact same area every time.

Using all of the simulation data, Dr. Weyers designed a customized treatment plan. The team carefully calculated the exact radiation dose and beam angles to target the cancer cells while protecting as much healthy tissue as possible. Normally, this planning process can take one to two weeks, but Dr. Weyers worked quickly to have everything ready for me in just three days.

After the planning session, Dr. Weyers met with us again and answered a few more questions. 

I continue to be so thankful for my team of doctors and for the genuine care they show for my health and well-being.

As we move into the weekend, I’m reminded once again about the balance of letting go while still holding onto hope.

One of my favorite lyrics right now is from “Worship Through It” by Tasha Layton featuring Chris Brown:

“This looks impossible
But You’re the God of impossible
And I’ve seen Your faithfulness all over my life
I need a miracle
And You’re the God of miracles
Somehow, some way, You come through every time.”