

When Heather Kono was three years old, just days shy of her fourth birthday, doctors diagnosed her with acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a type of cancer of the blood and bone marrow.
She remembers only fragments from that time. The playroom. Popsicles. Watching The Secret Garden on repeat from a VHS tape. And one Christmas morning in the hospital, when Santa arrived with a pair of headphones that could tune into the radio, her most treasured gift.
But one memory, tied to something as ordinary as orange Jell-O, has never left her. One evening, her mother had left the hospital to cook dinner for Heather’s father and sister. Before leaving, she ordered her daughter a tray that was missing her favorite dessert. Determined to fix it, her mother arranged for orange Jell-O to be delivered before heading home. Later that night, Heather woke to find a note her mom had left: I came back, but you were asleep. I’ll be back to see you in the morning. I’m so glad you got your Jell-O. I love you.
She cried quietly, feeling the ache of her mother’s absence. Then, a nurse slipped into the room. Heather doesn’t remember the woman’s face or name, only the comfort she offered, a simple presence that made the little girl feel less alone.
“That small gesture stayed with me for 33 years,” Heather said. “Now, as a nurse myself, I know how much those little moments matter. Getting a cup of ice water, answering a call light, things that seem so small to us can make a huge impact.”
Today, Heather is a pediatric oncology nurse on the very same unit where she was once a patient. She has cared for children lying in the same room where she watched Santa walk past her doorway. Sometimes she shares her story, cautiously, when parents or patients need a glimpse of hope.
One father wept when he learned she had survived the same diagnosis as his young daughter. “He couldn’t believe it,” Heather said. “It gave them hope that life after this was possible.”
But sharing her story isn’t always easy. “There’s always the downside of building a relationship and then the outcome being completely different,” Heather said. “It’s devastating.
Still, some connections last long after treatment. Families have stayed in touch with Heather after leaving the hospital, sending her updates on children she once cared for. “It’s incredible to see them doing so well years later,” she said.
For Heather, the path to nursing started during childhood. At first, she dreamed of becoming a doctor, inspired by her oncologist. But by middle school, she realized she wanted more time with patients. “The nurses were there all day, building relationships with families,” she said. “That’s what I wanted to do.”
Her journey back to Loma Linda was not immediate. She first worked in housekeeping at the hospital, often sneaking glimpses at the pediatric oncology floor where she had once been treated. Eventually, she enrolled at the Loma Linda University School of Nursing, later joining the very team that had once cared for her.
She still eats orange Jell-O when she’s sick, a reminder of her mother’s love, a nurse’s comfort, and the hospital that gave her a second chance.
“Every time I walk those halls,” Heather said, “I think about how lucky I am to be here, and how important it is to give that same hope back.”
This September, during Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, Loma Linda University Children’s Hospital honors patients like Heather and the children and families who continue to inspire us every day.
For a consultation with an oncologist, please call 909-651-1910. To schedule an appointment for non-urgent services or a second opinion, ask your pediatrician for a referral to our hematology oncology clinic.