Incredible Results, New Beginnings & A Firm Foundation of Faith

A Week of Memories, Good News, and a New Treatment Plan

We met with Dr. Hake right before we left for vacation to discuss the best course of action moving forward with my medication. Since my body—specifically my heart and blood counts—was not tolerating Kisqali well, we decided it was time to switch to a different medication. The new drug, Verzenio, also directly targets the CDK4 and CDK6 proteins that help cancer cells grow and spread.

Because one of the most common side effects of Verzenio is diarrhea, we decided it would be best to wait until we returned from our family vacation before starting it. That gave us a chance to enjoy our time together without worrying about introducing another medication and dealing with potential side effects while we were away.

A Week Filled With Memories in Tennessee

Our family vacation to Sevierville and Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, was exactly what we needed—a week filled with laughter, love, adventure, and plenty of time together.

We started our vacation with a stop at Belterra Park horse track in Cincinnati, Ohio. The kids had a blast betting on the horses, and a few of us even managed to come out ahead!

One of the highlights of the trip was Dollywood. It was so much fun! I rented an ECV, which made getting around the park much easier and allowed me to enjoy the day with everyone. We were able to ride most of the rides and experience so much of the park. I would absolutely recommend Dollywood to anyone visiting the area.

One morning, we went hiking with Andy’s parents. We chose an easy, mostly flat trail to Cataract Falls that was about a half-mile out and then back. I honestly wasn't sure how my body was going to handle the hike, but I was pleasantly surprised by how good I felt. Even Andy's dad made it with a walker. Being outside, surrounded by the beauty of the mountains, was good for my soul.

Then came the adventure I had been waiting for—whitewater rafting! 

Whitewater rafting has been on my bucket list, and it ended up being my absolute favorite thing we did on vacation. Our guide, Montana, was so fun and full of energy. Clara and I rode in the front of the raft for most of the trip, which meant we got absolutely soaked! We had water fights with the other raft carrying some of our family members. There were several times when the water completely crashed over us in the front.

It was SO much fun! We wrapped up the week with the Hatfield & McCoy Dinner Feud show and a trip into Gatlinburg to do some shopping and listen to some bluegrass music.

The house we rented was perfect for our group. It had an indoor pool, a huge kitchen, plenty of space for everyone, and absolutely stunning views of the Smoky Mountains.

We did have a couple of unexpected visitors during our stay. A black bear decided to get into Andy’s sister’s car and drink all of her Pepsi! Then, for the last two nights, a mama raccoon came out and climbed around on the deck, which definitely put a damper on our plans to sit outside and relax.

But honestly, those little adventures just added to the memories.

Most importantly, we were able to celebrate Andy’s dad’s 80th birthday together as a family. It was a week we will never forget, and I am so thankful we were able to make these memories together.

Back Home and a Week Full of Appointments

When we returned to Wisconsin, I had a full week of appointments waiting for me.

On Monday, August 11th, I had blood work and my PET scan. On Tuesday, we met with an oncologist at Froedtert & Medical College of Wisconsin. They reviewed my original treatment plan from 2014 and agreed with everything that had been done. We then talked through everything that has happened over the past few months, including my blood work and EKG results, and they came to the same conclusion we had already reached.

They agreed that switching to Verzenio was the right next step.

We love Dr. Hake so much, and having another team review everything and come to the same conclusion gives us even more reassurance that we have the best plan in place for me—which I already knew Dr. Hake had. 😊

My New Treatment Plan

With Verzenio, I will take the medication twice a day, every day, without breaks. Verzenio can cause gastrointestinal issues—especially diarrhea—as well as fatigue and low white blood cell counts. The good news is that it typically does not require the same type of heart rhythm monitoring that Kisqali did.

It is still considered a first-line treatment, and Dr. Hake reassured me that Verzenio will fight the cancer in a very similar way to Kisqali. We will just have some different side effects to manage.

So, to summarize, my new treatment plan includes Verzenio, letrozole, Lupron, and Zometa. Together, these medications take a multi-pronged approach to treating my hormone-receptor-positive breast cancer while also protecting my bones.

1. The Hormone Defense — Lupron + Letrozole

Because my cancer is fueled by estrogen, these two medications work together to reduce the amount of estrogen available to the cancer cells. Lupron is given by injection and suppresses my ovaries' ability to produce estrogen. Letrozole is a daily pill that blocks the body from making estrogen from other hormones in tissues throughout the body.

2. The Cellular Guard — Verzenio

Verzenio, also known as abemaciclib, is a targeted CDK4/6 inhibitor taken twice daily. It blocks the CDK4 and CDK6 proteins that cancer cells use to divide and multiply. In simple terms, while the hormone medications work to take away the fuel the cancer needs, Verzenio works to put another roadblock in the way of the cancer cells growing and multiplying.

3. The Structural Shield — Zometa

Zometa, or zoledronic acid, is given through an IV infusion. It helps strengthen my bones and protect against bone loss, which is especially important because Lupron and letrozole significantly reduce estrogen levels. Zometa also has another potential benefit—it can help create an environment in the bones that is less favorable for breast cancer cells.

And Then Came the News We Had Been Praying For

On Wednesday, August 13th, we had a video call with Dr. Hake.

He was so excited to talk with us and share the results of my PET scan. He had actually told one of the nurses earlier, “Every once in a while you get incredible results.”

She asked him what he was talking about, and he said, “Did you see Sheila’s scan?”

And then he showed us.

The report said there was “significantly decreased prominence of multifocal regions of hypermetabolic activity throughout the osseous structures.”

In other words—the cancer activity in my bones has significantly decreased.

As Dr. Hake showed us the difference between my previous scans and this most recent scan, it was incredible to see. Most of the spots throughout my spine are gone. The spots in my cervical spine, which is the area in the back of my neck, are now faint, along with just a few other faint areas.

Dr. Hake said, “Congratulations. We had a great response.”

Those words meant so much.

After everything we have been through over the last several months, seeing that the treatment is working is an answer to prayer. It was such an incredible moment for all of us.

Dr. Hake also reassured me that switching from Kisqali to Verzenio does not mean we are starting over. Verzenio will continue fighting the cancer in a similar way. We just have some different side effects to watch and manage.

Moving Forward With Faith

As I reflect on everything we have walked through, I am reminded once again that God has been with us every step of the way. There have been days filled with fear, uncertainty, tears, and more questions than answers. There have also been moments of incredible joy, laughter, answered prayers, and now—incredible scan results. Through every high and low, God has remained faithful.

I know this journey is not over. We are starting another new chapter with Verzenio, and there are still unknowns ahead. I will continue to have weekly blood work and heart scans for the first four weeks, and we will be watching closely to see how my body responds. I have made the difficult decision not to return to work this fall because I know I need to give my body the time and energy it needs to adjust. So once again, we are taking this one day, one appointment, one medication, and one prayer at a time.

But today, we are choosing to celebrate.

We are celebrating a PET scan that showed an incredible response. We are celebrating the spots throughout my spine that are now gone or barely visible. We are celebrating the wisdom and care of Dr. Hake and my entire medical team. We are celebrating the gift of time with our family and the memories we made in Tennessee. And most of all, we are celebrating a God who has carried us through every single step of this journey.

Our prayers haven't always been easy prayers. Some have been whispered through tears. Some have been prayed in fear. Some have simply been, “God, please help us get through today.” But today, those prayers sound a little different.

Today, our prayer is one of praise.

This journey has been hard-fought, and our praise has been hard-fought, too. But through it all, God has given us reason to lift our hands, give thanks, and sing.

So as we step into this next chapter, we will continue to trust Him, continue to pray, and continue to believe that He is good, He is faithful, and He is in control.

And today, with grateful hearts, we have a little more reason to sing.

Brandon Lake, Jelly Roll - Hard Fought Hallelujah

This one is for every hard day, every prayer, every tear, every answered prayer—and every reason we have to praise Him. ❤️

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.”

Where Treatment Begins and Hope Grows

Start of Some Treatments – April 24

Andy’s sister Kris took me in for my first round of treatments. That day, I received my first infusions of Zometa and Lupron—both commonly used in treating advanced cancers.

Zometa is a medication that helps strengthen bones and is often used when cancer has spread to the bones. It can come with some side effects like bone pain, nausea, fever, and fatigue. Lupron, on the other hand, is a hormone therapy injection I’ll receive monthly. It works by suppressing estrogen, which helps slow or stop the growth of hormone-driven cancer. Its side effects can include hot flashes, mood swings, fatigue, and decreased libido—so yes, Andy may have to show a little extra patience with me.

I was also able to start taking letrozole that day. This is a daily pill that blocks the production of estrogen in the body, essentially “starving” cancer cells that rely on it to grow. In the short term, it can cause things like hot flashes, night sweats, fatigue, dizziness, and headaches. Over time, it may also weaken bones, which is why the Zometa is such an important part of the plan.

When we arrived at the Mukwonago Cancer Center, there was a hiccup—my Lupron injection hadn’t yet been approved by insurance. When the nurse informed Dr. Hake, he stepped in right away. I also reached out to our Nurse Navigator, Olivia Budiac, who immediately started working on it from her end. Thanks to their persistence and advocacy, everything moved forward, and I was able to receive the Lupron shot that day—which meant I could begin the letrozole as planned. I’m incredibly grateful for a care team that truly goes to bat for me.

The rest of the weekend was filled with meaningful moments. On Saturday, watch Gavin race, then drove up to Brillion and I was able to spend time with my best friend from high school Kelly—there’s nothing quite like a long-overdue, in-person hug. On Sunday, we celebrated my niece Maddie’s confirmation and enjoyed time with my brothers and their families.

During Pastor Henzie’s sermon that morning, he shared a simple but powerful progression: “I think I can, I know I can, I will,” inspired by The Little Engine That Could. It’s about moving from doubt, to belief, to action—holding onto hope and pressing forward even when things feel overwhelming.

As I sat there listening, it felt like the message was meant just for me. Learning to let go and lean fully on God during times like this isn’t easy. But I trust that there is purpose in this journey. We are called to serve Him, and somehow—even in this battle—He will use my story for His greater good.

Our God is merciful. He is faithful. He is good.

Echo Test and Birthday Wishes

Echo Test and Birthday Wishes – April 23

Turning 46 wasn’t quite how I had imagined it. Still, I was surrounded by love in the best ways. My cousin Rhonda and my goddaughter Lauren took me to my echocardiogram appointment and stayed with me throughout the day.

We started the morning at the Pewaukee Cancer Center for my echo, which lasted about an hour. An echocardiogram uses ultrasound to create images of the heart, showing its size, shape, and how well it’s pumping. My implants made it a bit more challenging for the technician to capture all the necessary images, but she was thorough and patient. This test serves as a baseline, and they’ll continue to monitor my heart throughout treatment.

Afterward, we headed to lunch and met up with Andy’s cousin Kate—who also happens to be my college roommate—at Danny Haskell’s Pub and Grill in Muskego. We sat outside on the patio, enjoying the beautiful weather and a delicious meal. From there, we went back to our house and spent the afternoon on the patio, soaking in the sunshine, sharing laughs (and a few tears), and listening to the peaceful flow of the river behind us.

Clara surprised me with a homemade tres leches cake, inspired by something a nurse had mentioned at my biopsy appointment. She made it the night before with Grandma Judy. It was absolutely delicious—topped with strawberries, Cool Whip, cinnamon, chocolate, and caramel drizzle. She was so proud, and I was so touched.

Throughout the day, I felt incredibly loved. So many people reached out with birthday wishes, flowers, and thoughtful messages—it meant more than I can put into words.

My friend Cindy also sent me a song for the day, along with her favorite lyric:

“And every fear I lay at Your feet. I’ll sing through the night—oh God, the battle belongs to You.” 

- Phil Wickham

Tears, Truth, and Some Treatment Plans

 The News from Dr. Hake - April 22

Wednesday afternoon was filled with a swirl of emotions I can’t fully put into words. As we walked into the upper level of the Greenwald Center in Mukwonago, my eyes landed on the sign: Cancer Center Entrance.

In that moment, I was transported back 11 years—to standing in this very place with my hands raised in the air, just after completing one of the hardest years of my life. Six months of chemotherapy (including the “Red Devil”), two surgeries including a double mastectomy, and 37 rounds of radiation had brought me to that finish line.

And yet here I was again.

Walking back through those same doors brought a wave of questions I wasn’t ready to answer. How am I back here? What does treatment look like this time? Is this my breast cancer returning? And what does this mean for my long-term prognosis?

Everything felt familiar—but also completely unknown at the same time.

Last Radiation Treatment June 2015

As we walked toward the clinic doors, I stopped. There, painted on a rock, were the words: "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." (Joshua 1:9). I took a deep breath, whispered to myself “we got this,” and stepped inside.

Once we were back in the exam room, Dr. Hake came in shortly after. As he walked through the door, tears were already in my eyes and I stood up to give him a hug. He held me as I cried, and for a moment there were no words—just the weight of everything settling in.

We began by going back through the last several weeks, retracing the changes and symptoms that had brought us to this point. Then he gently explained what the imaging was showing: this was my breast cancer, now metastatic to the bones. He reassured us that it was not in any organs and not in my brain.

Next, he walked us through the PET scan. The images showed areas of concern throughout my spine, with more concentrated involvement in the lower back and hip. When the scan was shown in contrast, the tracer highlighted the cancer activity even more clearly—those brighter “hot spots” indicating where the disease was active. As he explained it, I could feel the reality of it settle in. It wasn’t just a few areas—it was widespread. Some spots were small, but they were everywhere.

When he finished, I asked the question I was afraid to ask out loud: “How long do I have?”

He was honest, but also steady. He explained that there are many treatment options for metastatic breast cancer, and we would start with one approach and adjust as needed. Some patients live many years—sometimes a decade or even two—but ultimately, this is something that will one day take my life. Hearing those words made everything stop. I am 46 years old… and I was being told I may have one or two decades. My mind struggled to catch up as emotions came crashing in and I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate. After a few moments, we slowly continued the conversation.

Andy began asking more detailed questions about treatment options, and Dr. Hake walked us through how much has changed since my first diagnosis. Medicine has advanced significantly, and there are far more tools available now. Based on my current cancer profile—still estrogen and progesterone positive, with HER2 status pending—they would begin with a multi-pronged approach.

The plan includes monthly zoledronic acid infusions to strengthen my bones and reduce fracture risk, along with an ovarian suppression injection to medically induce menopause. I will also start a daily aromatase inhibitor (letrozole) to lower estrogen levels, essentially cutting off the fuel that feeds the cancer—slowing growth, stabilizing disease, and in some cases shrinking tumors.

We are still waiting on the final HER2 (FISH) results, which could adjust the treatment plan further if positive. In addition, the Next Generation Sequencing (NGS) testing will look at the cancer at a genetic level—analyzing its DNA to identify what is driving it. This can reveal targeted treatment options, including specific pills or therapies designed to attack certain mutations or pathways. It’s one of the most important pieces of information in guiding next steps.

Dr. Hake discussed using Targeted Therapy—essentially a 'smart' pill that carries chemotherapy directly to the cancer cells. This treatment follows a cycle where I take the medication daily for 21 days, followed by a seven-day break to let my body rest. If needed, additional chemotherapy or a port could be part of future treatment depending on how things respond. There are still multiple options available if one approach stops working, and ongoing research continues to bring new developments.

Dr. Hake also recommended I meet with Dr. Weyers early the following week to discuss whether radiation might help with areas of focal bone pain.

As the visit was coming to an end, Dr. Hake reassured me once more that a solid plan would be in place. He encouraged me that he expects I’ll be ready to hike on our Tennessee trip in August, even be back to running, and that returning to teaching in the fall is very much within reach—which he strongly supports. Before I left, he gave me another big hug, again reminding me that once all the final results are in, we’ll move forward with clarity and direction.

Shortly after, one of my nurses from 12 years ago stopped in. She wrapped me in a familiar hug, and we shared a few very emotional moments together. Another nurse then came in to go over the plan for my first treatments—Lupron injections to shut down ovarian function, along with a zoledronic infusion for bone strength, both scheduled for Friday of this week.

The nurse navigator also visited, offering steady support and helpful resources for our family as we continue to navigate my cancer diagnosis.

Andy left feeling reassured, and my mom kept reminding me that there are many treatment options ahead. But in my mind, one sentence kept replaying, louder than everything else:

“Eventually, this will take your life.”

A Heart Full of Gratitude in a Hard Week

Brain MRI - April 20

On Sunday, we were surrounded by so much love. The Meinecke side of the family came to church with us, and our pastor said a prayer for our family. There were a lot of tears, many shocked faces in the congregation, and more hugs than I could count. It was emotional, but also incredibly comforting to feel so supported.

After that, we kept the rest of the day pretty low-key, knowing the week ahead would bring a lot.

On Monday, April 20th, I went in for a brain MRI to check for any cancer activity. The results confirmed the abnormal lesion in the back of my skull bone, measuring 25 x 14 x 15 mm—about the size of a grape to a walnut. This was not present on my 2019 MRI, meaning it developed sometime after that.

Hearing the location is definitely scary, but there is some reassurance: the lesion is in the bone, not the brain itself. While it will need treatment and close monitoring, it is different from cancer in the brain and is often more manageable.

Special Visit with Park View Students - April 22

Wednesday was a much busier day. 

Andy and I went to Park View, where I taught 8th grade math, to visit some of my students. This meant so much to me because I had to leave so suddenly that I never really got the chance to say goodbye.

We brought birthday treats (which may have helped draw a crowd 😊), but the turnout was beyond anything I expected. Around 80 students came out to the courtyard to see me. I was able to hug so many of them, they sang “Happy Birthday,” and I was showered with treats, cards, flowers and so much love.

Since then, I’ve continued to receive emails—and even some videos—from both past and present students letting me know they’re thinking of me. To all of my students and their families: thank you. Your continued support means more than I can put into words.

Throughout my teaching career, I always tried to build strong, positive relationships and help shape each student’s character. Moments like this remind me just how meaningful that work has been. I feel incredibly blessed to have had an impact on so many lives.

God has a plan in all of this—He is working, even in the hard moments.

Trusting through the Unknown

Biopsy – April 17th

My mom took me to my biopsy appointment that morning, while Andy went with Graysen to another doctor’s visit. He met us at the hospital just before my procedure.

When Dr. Longo—a very young-looking doctor—walked into the room, she began explaining what to expect. As she talked, she mentioned they would be taking a sample from my right lumbar vertebrae. I waited until she stopped and then asked, “Is there a reason you’re taking it from the right side when it’s my left side that’s been hurting?” She stopped for a moment and said, “No, you’re absolutely right—it is the left side.” 

Well… if that didn’t do much for my confidence.

I also asked what it actually meant to do a bone biopsy. She explained that it would be a needle biopsy using imaging guidance, and that they would take two small bone samples. She had a great sense of humor and reassured me that everything was precisely programmed, so she really couldn’t miss the spot.

As the nurse came in to get me ready to go back, Andy—true to form—kept talking and asking questions. Anyone who knows Andy can probably picture that. Finally, my mom stepped in and said, “Andy, you need to stop talking so they can take her back.”

When we got into the procedure room, the mood lightened a bit as we started chatting. I mentioned that my daughter was having three friends over that night for a sleepover to celebrate her 13th birthday. I’m usually the one who makes the cakes, but this time Grandma was stepping in to make our favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. One of the nurses asked if I had ever had tres leches cake and started describing it—it sounded amazing.

Then it was time to get into position. I climbed onto a very narrow exam table, unsure where to put my hands as I lay face down. Since they needed to reposition me during the procedure, they had me lift up into a sort of plank so they could slide a sheet underneath me. Then they wrapped me up tightly—like a mummy—so I wouldn’t move.

As everything was getting set, I heard someone say, “Okay, we’re doing the right side.” At that point, I wasn’t sure if they were joking, but I quickly said, “It’s the left—the left side.”

I was awake during the procedure, though I must have drifted in and out because I don’t remember much—not even seeing Dr. Longo.

When they wheeled me back to recovery, I remember asking the nurse again for the name of that cake. We had to stay a few more hours before I could go home. My mom gave me a hug and headed back to help get things ready for the birthday sleepover, while Andy stayed with me. I ended up napping for a couple of hours, and before long, they were getting me ready to go.

We asked how long it would take to get the results, and they said typically 3–5 business days—which meant waiting through the weekend. But they also mentioned that Dr. Hake tends to move things along quickly. Since we already had an appointment scheduled with him the following Wednesday, we were hopeful he’d have answers by then.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t too sore afterward. Before bed that night, I asked my mom what the biopsy site looked like. She said, “I think I can see it,” which made me realize it was much smaller than it had felt in my mind.

We kept things pretty low-key over the weekend. My dad came down on Saturday after state bowling, and on Sunday, my cousin Brian and his wife Jen stopped by for a visit. Monday, I had an MRI of my head to check for any cancer in that area. Tuesday was the first day with no appointments, and I was able to just be present and enjoy time with my parents.

The waiting in all of this has been the hardest part. There are so many unknowns—so much that’s out of our control. Letting go and trusting God has truly been a test for me. I’ve been incredibly grateful for all the messages, prayers, and encouragement. My friend Cindy shared a song with me that I listened to right before the biopsy, and it brought me a sense of peace. 

Katy Nichole - "In Jesus Name (God of Possible)"

Holding on through the Unknown

PET Scan – April 15th

The days leading up to the PET scan—and the unknown that came with it—were truly agonizing. I can honestly say I had rarely seen Andy cry, but during those days, he held me with tears in his eyes. He kept reassuring me that everything would be okay, and that no matter what, he would keep our children grounded in faith. We held each other often, but it felt different this time—heavier, as fear quietly settled in.

The PET scan itself wasn’t too bad. It was at least much quicker than the MRIs I had the week before. When it was over, I sat up slowly and took a moment before standing. I said a small prayer and asked the technician how long it would take to get the results. She mentioned it was already late in the afternoon, so it might not be until the next morning before Dr. Hake called.

When I got home, Andy came home right away instead of going to track practice. We were all waiting, anxious and on edge. Then, just a few hours later, my phone rang—Dr. Hake.

As Clara handed me the phone, I told her to go get her dad. We stepped out onto the deck together, and I put the call on speaker so we could both listen. Dr. Hake began gently, “I am so sorry, Sheila…” and then the words that changed everything: metastatic bone cancer. He explained it had been found in multiple areas—my left hip, lumbar spine, ribs, scapula, skull, and femur—but there was no evidence in my liver, lungs, or brain. He repeated how sorry he was.

Tears filled my eyes, and I didn’t know what to say. Andy immediately began asking questions. I don’t even remember what he asked—I felt frozen in that moment, like time had stopped. Dr. Hake told us they would schedule a biopsy for Friday to determine whether this was a recurrence of my breast cancer or something new. He ended the call with his gentle voice saying, “Hang in there. We’ll talk again soon.”

After we hung up, the kids came out to the screened porch where we were sitting, holding each other. We shared the news with the kids. With tears in their eyes, they wrapped me in the biggest hugs. Andy tried to reassure them that this was something we could treat. But in my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder—how could this be treatable when it was in so many places already?