When Robin Little Wing Sigo sat alone in a Seattle imaging center last summer, waiting to learn whether a second round of scans would confirm her fears, time seemed to narrow into two doors.   

One door led back to normal life.   

The other would change everything.   

“In five minutes,” she told the crowd gathered at the Women’s Health Fair at Kiana Lodge in May, “they were determining what the next steps of my life were going to be.”   

Sigo, a former Suquamish Tribal Council member and co-founder of the Suquamish-based nonprofit SaltFire, publicly shared the story of her breast cancer journey during the event, which focused on women’s health, survivorship and prevention.   

The moment she received her diagnosis remains vivid.   

After an annual mammogram last June revealed abnormalities in her right breast, Sigo returned weeks later for additional imaging. At first, she tried to reassure herself.   

“They can’t get me in for six weeks,” she recalled thinking. “Clearly this is not a big deal.”   

You have cancer right here   

Her fiancé, Randy, insisted on accompanying her to the appointment in Seattle. She initially told him there was no reason to come.   

“I was like, ‘They’re not going to give me any answers,’” she said.   

But after more scans and an ultrasound, a doctor entered the room and delivered the news directly.   

“He said, ‘I’ve got to be really honest with you. You have cancer right here.’”   

She immediately asked him to bring Randy in from the waiting room   

“Tears are running down my face and, you know, it was a terrible moment, all these fears I’ve had all my life just welling up,” she said. “And then in comes my big burley Viking guy and he was not just there for me, but he was also able to ask all the questions that I wasn’t able to even think of in that moment. I was so grateful for that.”   

The diagnosis came after decades of work connected to health and wellness in the Suquamish community.   

Sigo first began working for the Suquamish Tribe nearly 27 years ago, originally planning to stay only for the summer. Instead, she built a career rooted in community health, social work and trauma-informed care.   

Early in her career, she helped administer health grants related to diabetes prevention, breast cancer prevention, and public health outreach. She spent years encouraging women to schedule mammograms and preventative screenings, long before she imagined she would someday face cancer herself.   

“My grandma had breast cancer,” Sigo said. “So I always knew I needed to get checked.”   

Constellations of care   

That background shaped how she approached the diagnosis. After the initial shock, she found herself thinking like a counselor and social worker, trying to gather information and prepare for what came next.   

The long months that followed were both physically and emotionally exhausting. From July through September, she underwent additional testing, consultations and uncertainty before doctors confirmed the cancer was treatable and likely would not require chemotherapy.   

“There are so many tests and so many things,” she said. “It becomes this constant process.”   

Sigo received treatment through Virginia Mason, where she said coordinated care teams, navigators, and specialists helped guide her through surgery and recovery.   

Equally important was the support surrounding her outside the hospital.   

“There was something really amazing about this constellation of people that came out to help me,” she said, describing the family members, coworkers, friends, and community members who brought meals, donated money, checked in on her and sat with her during difficult moments.  

 Strength in our DNA   

Throughout the process, Sigo also leaned on the resilience she believes is carried through generations of Native women.  

 “I’m proud to be a Native woman,” she said. “Because I know that living in our DNA, we have ancestors who made it through hard things.”   

Now six months after her surgery, Sigo said she wanted to share her story publicly because too many people delay screenings, avoid appointments or try to face illness alone.   

Her message to others was practical and direct.   

• Get regular mammograms.  
• Ask questions.  
• Accept help.  
• And don’t wait until things feel urgent before taking your health seriously.  

She also encouraged people to recognize the emotional toll a serious illness places not only on patients, but on families and caregivers trying to process fear and uncertainty in real time.   

Most importantly, she urged people to allow themselves to lean on community.   

“There are people here to help,” Sigo said. “You don’t have to do it alone.” 

Gentle sounds of newborn cries filled the House of Awakened Culture May 11 as pregnant women and new mothers gathered alongside supportive partners, proud aunties and loved ones for the first-ever Suquamish Community Baby Shower.   

The event was open to all Indigenous mothers within the community and was created in response to a baby boom in Suquamish over the past year, said Cori Silvey, event organizer and program manager for the Changing Tides, Helping Hands Home Visiting Program. Of the 30 mothers who attended, more than half arrived with a baby in tow, with ages ranging from three weeks to 11 months old.     

The event was provided in partnership with Suquamish Tribe’s Community Health Department and Human Services Division, along with generous donations from community members for swag bags and raffle prizes.  

Abundance, empowerment, and ceremony   

“Abundance was our theme,” said Silvey. “Families couldn’t believe the preparation and intention that went into every element, especially the gifts and activities.”     

Some of the most impactful educational takeaways centered around empowerment, advocacy and reclaiming intentional practices during birth and postpartum care.     

Attendees were reminded that it is okay to advocate for practices that feel spiritually and culturally important, especially within western medicine settings.    

“Until Suquamish has its own birthing center, we need to make places feel safe for our families,” said Silvey.    

One of the recurring concepts throughout the gathering was the importance of “cere-minis” – practices that are intentionally small and sacred. They are not done for the approval of others.   

“The idea is to honor the sacredness of ourselves and the teachings we are seeking to reclaim,” said Silvey. “Giving birth and bringing your baby home is something sacred. It feels warm in your tummy. It brings up a lot of emotions. It’s a memory and your body stores memories. It does not have to be big, or grand; it does not have to be on social media. It does not have to be affirmed by anybody else.”    

Opening space   

For Destiny Campana, the gathering opened space to process parts of her postpartum journey she had carried quietly. After the birth of her second child in June 2025, she struggled with feelings of mom-guilt after having to return to work much sooner than she had with her first born. The event allowed her to reflect on the differences between those experiences while also finding ways to move forward.    

“Having to run a business in this economy is so stressful,” Campana said, referring to the family restaurant, Campana’s Pizzaria in Bremerton.   

“And after my son, I just didn’t have the same bonding time that I had with my daughter. My husband was back running the restaurant within two weeks of our son’s birth, and I went back to work for [Port Madison Enterprises Construction Company] after six weeks.”    

One of the practices that resonated most with her was making creation stories for both of her children — something they can read together as they grow older and recognize the deep love and thought she carried for them equally.    

Janelle Mills, with a late July due date, attended with her partner Chris Samuria. She came to the event looking for ways to mentally prepare herself for giving birth.   

“I keep repeating to myself, ‘I grew this baby, I can birth this baby’,” said Mills.   

Suquamish tribal member Patty Vollenweider was working at medical clinic in Northern California when she learned that a client had died while sleeping in a nearby public park. His Social Security benefits had been mismanaged by his payee, the person who was supposed to be helping pay his bills. That mismanagement left the man without the resources he needed to survive.

That was in the early 1990s and the moment stayed with Vollenweider. And it clarified a calling.

Not long after, she founded what is now known as Community Engaged Payee Support, or CEPS, built on a simple idea: people deserve to access their own money with dignity, safety, and trust.

What began as one woman’s response to injustice has grown into a non-profit organization that now serves thousands of people each month across the Sacramento area, including elders, people with disabilities, and veterans.

CEPS aids individuals who have difficulty managing their day-to-day financial affairs. Services are designed to meet each client’s individual money management needs, while serving as their representative payee. This includes establishing and maintaining a monthly budget, paying monthly bills, creating savings goals, organization and keeping track of financial records, negotiating with creditors, and protecting them from financial fraud, abuse, or exploitation.

Managing millions of dollars in payee funds and donations, CEPS helps clients maintain stability while also connecting them to housing, behavioral health services, and recovery support.

But for Vollenweider, the work was never just about building better support systems. It was always grounded in finding better ways to care for the people who need them.

Radical simplicity

“Her work was radical in its simplicity,” says her daughter Jasmine Vollenweider. “Meet people where they are, love them as they are, and believe in who they could become.”

That philosophy was shaped by lived experience, a single mother raising two daughters while relying on public benefits. She also carried decades of sobriety, with experiences that grounded her approach in empathy rather than judgment.

“She knew firsthand how fragile stability can be,” Jasmine says.

Vollenweider also carried Suquamish cultural teachings that emphasized community, connection, and responsibility to others. “She was a proud Suquamish Elder, carrying forward the wisdom and responsibility of a lineage rooted in the teachings of Chief Seattle. Her Indigenous identity was not something she spoke about loudly — but it lived quietly and powerfully in how she showed up in the world. She believed deeply in community, in interconnectedness, and in honoring each person’s spirit.”

That belief guided how she built CEPS. The organization expanded beyond financial management to include housing support, mental health advocacy, and recovery services, becoming a trusted resource for people navigating some of life’s hardest moments.

It also shaped how she treated people in everyday encounters.

Jasmine recalls a moment when her mother stopped to speak with a veteran holding a sign on an offramp. Simply listening to his story led to a connection with VA services. The man eventually found stable housing, remarried, and rebuilt his life.

“She reminded all of us — staff, clients, and partners — that focusing on the good is not naïve; it’s necessary,” says Jasmine.

A lasting legacy

Vollenweider passed away Dec. 6, 2025, at the age of 71.

In the months since, her daughter has stepped forward to carry on the work her mother began more than 30 years ago.

“I’ve had the privilege of learning from the very best,” says Jasmine. “Since the inception of CEPS, I’ve walked beside my mother—not just as her daughter, but as her student.”

Now helping to lead the non-profit, she continues the work grounded in the same values her mother instilled — caring for both clients and staff, removing barriers where possible, and staying focused on doing what is right.

Through CEPS, Patty Vollenweider’s work continues.

“Her impact will ripple outward for generations,” says Jasmine. “In every door opened to stability, every moment of dignity restored, every person who walks through our doors and finds not judgment, but hope.”