Inside the Ascension Sacred Heart Cancer Center, Krystal “Sunshine” Nall is making sure patients have more than medical care; they have someone helping them find a way.
There’s a reason they call her Sunshine.
There are some humans that have a way of bringing light into a room without ever trying, and Krystal “Sunshine” Nall, MSN, RN, is one of those people.

As the Nursing Director of Oncology Services at Ascension Sacred Heart Pensacola, Sunshine spends her days surrounded by people going through some of the hardest moments of their lives.
Yet when she talks about her patients, what comes through first isn’t the heaviness of cancer. It’s hope and an enormous amount of compassion.
It’s also an unwavering belief that if there is a way to help someone, she and her team will find it. “I’m a huge patient advocate,” Sunshine says. You can hear how much those words mean to her in the inflection of her voice and the slight tilt of her head as she leans in to explain to me what that really is wanting to convey.
Behind the doors of the Ascension Sacred Heart Cancer Center, nearly 100 people work together every day to care for patients. There are schedulers and staff handling insurance authorizations, physicians and nurse practitioners, infusion and clinic nurses, laboratory technicians, and countless others whose work keeps the center moving.
Together, they care for roughly 400 patients each day who come through the center for appointments, lab work, consultations, and treatments.
Four hundred people who have four hundred different and yet similar stories.
But each one is connected by something no one ever wants to hear: a cancer diagnosis that has changed the course of their life.
Sunshine sees her role as making sure those patients have access to everything they need for what comes next.
She knows the system, the treatments, and has a good handle on the resources.
But more importantly, she understands that cancer care is about far more than medicine.
“Cancer doesn’t just affect a person’s body,” Sunshine explains. “I meet patients who haven’t been able to work because they don’t feel well enough to show up at their job. Others find transportation to their daily appointments to be a huge challenge, and others don’t have the resources to support themselves while they’re out of work and focused on treatment.”
It is easy to recognize that someone diagnosed with cancer will need medical treatment.
What is less visible is everything that happens around that treatment, and how deeply it can affect a person’s financial and emotional health.
That is where the work happening behind the scenes becomes so important.
The cancer center has two licensed counselor social workers, and Sunshine says they interact with roughly 75% of patients because of the challenges that can stand between a person and the care they need.
Transportation is one of the biggest, and the center spends approximately $40,000 each year on gas cards and rideshare assistance simply to help patients get to their appointments.
A cancer diagnosis doesn’t make the car payment disappear, though, and having a job and health insurance doesn’t necessarily mean someone can afford every copay that comes with treatment.
Some patients come for radiation every day, while others return every week for chemotherapy. Add in food insecurity, utility bills, housing, and other basic needs, and the weight of a cancer diagnosis can become almost impossible to carry alone.
Some patients also travel significant distances for specialized care, particularly for gynecologic oncology and radiation services. The team helps them find places to stay so they can be here for the care they need.
This is the part of cancer care that can be easy to miss from the outside.
While the physical demands of cancer treatment are often the focus, Sunshine has learned that some of the deepest emotional wounds can come from changes that may seem small to everyone else, like losing your hair.
For many women, hair loss is about far more than hair. It can mean losing a familiar reflection in the mirror at a time when they are already trying to hold on to a sense of who they are.
Cancer doesn’t just change a woman’s body; it often changes the way she sees herself. Sunshine remembers one patient who told one of the center’s social workers that her double mastectomy and total hysterectomy weren’t as emotionally impactful as losing her hair.
Those things could be hidden, but she explained, her hair loss couldn’t.
“Everybody can see that I lost my hair,” the patient said. Sunshine understands that feeling on a personal level.
Several years ago, she experienced her own frightening health scare when doctors discovered a 30-pound tumor on her right ovary. It was during COVID, and her husband was the only person who could be with her in the hospital.
She remembers telling him something that, in that moment, felt almost impossible to explain.
“Whatever happens, I can’t lose my hair.”

Hair is part of how women see themselves. It is part of getting ready in the morning. It is part of feeling feminine. It is part of feeling like yourself.
“You have bad hair days,” Sunshine says with a laugh. “Sometimes it’s in a ponytail. But when you get up and you’re going somewhere, one of the things you focus the longest on is fixing your hair. And it can determine how you feel that day.”
That understanding is behind an initiative that Sunshine and the Ascension Sacred Heart Foundation hope will soon become a reality.
The Willow Boutique has an intentional name.
The willow tree represents resilience, strong enough to bend, beautiful enough to stand out, and able to withstand difficult conditions.
Sunshine sees the women who walk through the cancer center’s doors in much the same way.
“No matter what they are going through, they continue to show up,” she says.
The vision for the Willow Boutique is to create a private space on the first floor of the cancer center where women can meet with someone specially trained to help them find a wig that feels right for them.
Not just a wig, but a little piece of normal. And if a woman cannot afford the full cost, she won’t be expected to.
The program will use the same financial-assistance guidelines already in place for other patient needs.
The Ascension Sacred Heart Foundation has applied for an Impact 100 grant to fund the startup of the boutique and has made it to the final round, with the presentation scheduled for October 11.
If awarded, the goal is to have the Willow Boutique fully functioning within the next year.
But Sunshine sees something even bigger.
She wants women throughout the community, not only Ascension Sacred Heart patients, to know this resource is available.
There is another kind of care happening inside these walls, too.
Patients can spend up to eight hours at the cancer center, which is a long time to sit in a treatment chair.
It is even longer when you are nauseated, anxious, exhausted, or simply trying to get through another day of something you never imagined you’d have to face.
That’s why Sunshine was so touched when Zam’s USA, a newly opened Pensacola
restaurant, decided to kick off Breast Cancer Awareness Month by putting awareness into action.
They arrived with 50 hot bowls and burrito meals for cancer patients receiving treatment and the staff caring for them.
If you know the story behind Zam’s, you know this was more than a food delivery.
The restaurant was founded by Australian medical doctor Dr. Sam Prince, who believes 100% in the connection between food and healing.
The Zam’s team didn’t simply drop off lunch, though, they showed up with a message.
We see you, we know you’re here, and we want to help.
That is the kind of community Sunshine hopes to continue building around cancer patients.

There are countless ways to help, including a meal, gas card, a donation toward a wig, a gift to help with a copay, a ride to an appointment, a thoughtful card, a book to read, a prayer.
Sunshine also points to the cancer center’s partnership with PenAir Credit Union, which hosts an annual snack drive. This year, the community donated more than 8,000 individually wrapped snacks.
It may sound like a small thing, but when a patient is sitting in a treatment chair for hours, small things can become very big things.
“These are simple acts that tell someone, ‘You don’t have to do this completely alone,’” Sunshine says. “I don’t want anyone in this building thinking they have to do this alone.”
Cancer brings a lot of difficult news, so when the news is good, they celebrate it big on Airport Boulevard.
Recently, a woman with stage-four breast cancer received a clear PET scan. Her 22-year-old daughter had been pushing her to keep coming, keep fighting and keep showing up. This last visit, they had something worth celebrating.
At this cancer center, celebrating has become a team sport! When a patient is ready to ring the bell marking the end of treatment, the nurse caring for that patient sends out a message to the building.
About 15 minutes later, people begin making their way toward the celebration.
Nurses, staff, and people who may have never met the patient but understand exactly what that bell means show up.
“When the bell is ringing, for a few minutes, everything else stops,” Sunshine says. “Because it’s worthy of pausing.”
It sure is.
As a cancer survivor myself, I can tell you there are few sweeter words to hear than, “You are cancer-free, ring that bell!
Sunshine has been with Ascension Sacred Heart for 21 years and has spent much of her nursing career in medical-surgical care, then worked in progressive care and leadership before spending her final seven years at the hospital as director of the ICU and emergency department.
Five years ago, she had the opportunity to lead oncology services. When she walked through the doors, she felt something different.
“You can feel a difference,” she says. “You feel what’s happening here. The impact you’re making on these patients, on their lives.”
One of the things that has surprised her most is simply how many people in our community are affected by cancer.
Ascension Sacred Heart sees roughly 400 new breast cancer patients each year and more than 300 new lung cancer patients.
And those numbers don’t include patients coming through cancer clinics in Andalusia, Destin and Panama City.
Most of us know someone who has had cancer, but working inside a cancer center changes your understanding of what that diagnosis means.
“Until it hits you, and I believe in your house, you don’t understand what that patient is going through,” Sunshine says.
There is the moment of diagnosis, then the shock, the fear, followed by questions.
And for many people, the first thought is brutally simple: Am I going to die?
I know that feeling.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, that was my first thought, too. Fortunately, a dear friend was in the room with me. While I checked out for the next 20 minutes, trying to process what I had just been told, she took notes, asked questions, and managed the conversation until I could reengage.
And then there is everything that comes afterward including treatment, bills, work, family, fear, hope, and sometimes, a bell.
Perhaps the most powerful thing Sunshine says about the cancer center is also the simplest.
“We’re not going to tell you no. We’re going to help you find a way.”
Last year, the center helped bring in approximately $9 million worth of free medication for patients.
The physicians meet weekly to discuss complicated cases and make sure they are considering every available option.
And when another cancer center or specialist can provide something a patient needs, they are willing to make that connection. Patients may be referred to major cancer centers such as MD Anderson or Moffitt when appropriate.
Being a patient advocate sometimes means knowing when someone else has something to offer.
That same spirit of collaboration is something Sunshine wants to see grow throughout the community.
She and cancer center leadership have already begun conversations with oncology leaders at Baptist Health Care about sharing resources, connecting navigators and social workers, and building stronger relationships among cancer-care organizations.
Her belief is simple: These patients belong to all of us.
If someone in Pensacola is fighting cancer, the entire community has an opportunity to help.
Ask Sunshine what she hopes to see a year from now, and her answer comes quickly.
She wants to see the Willow Boutique open and fully functioning, with a trained expert helping women find wigs that make them feel like themselves again.
But there are other goals just as important. Partnerships with more organizations working together and more resources being shared. More support groups and more people knowing what is available and where to find them.
Because the oncology community in Northwest Florida is bigger than any one hospital.
No single organization can do everything, but when a community walks alongside people going through cancer, something changes, and the burden becomes a little lighter and a little less lonely.
And sometimes, a bowl or burrito delivered at lunchtime can remind someone that they are seen.
Sometimes, a snack can make an eight-hour treatment a little easier.
Sometimes, a wig can help a woman recognize herself in the mirror again.
And sometimes, when someone is looking for a way forward, there is a woman named Sunshine standing nearby, ready to say: “We’re going to help you find a way.”
I wish I had asked her why she had been given this nickname, but I am going with this after meeting her:
When you are in a place where so many people are walking through the darkest days of their lives, Sunshine Nall keeps looking for ways to bring a little more light.
Want to help?
There are many ways to support cancer patients in our community, from helping fund the Willow Boutique wigs to supporting transportation, food, copays, and other basic needs.
Find them listed here: https://bit.ly/4hOCIKD



























