Hope Takes Flight: A Teen’s Tribute to Her ‘Warrior’ Aunt – and the Local Support Connection That Helped Her Heal

By Maddie Stone, Examiner reporter intern

The scene opens in a beautiful dining hall filled with applause this past Sunday at Somers Pointe Country Club: a blonde woman in a red dress stands at the podium, just finishing a tear-jerking speech. Had you not heard what she said, you’d never know she’s a breast cancer survivor – and the definition of a true warrior.

That woman is my hilarious, brave aunt, Somers resident Laura Markowski. And this is her story.

I was 15 when my parents called me into their room to tell me the news that would change my life forever – my aunt tested positive for the BRCA2 gene mutation. In layman’s terms, her chances of developing cancer within her lifetime multiplied exponentially, and while I did not fully understand the science behind this at the time, the word “cancer” was all I needed to hear to know it was my worst nightmare. 

Growing up, my Aunt Flern (that’s her strange family nickname) was one of my best friends. I could not process that everything could change. However, this story turned out to be as much of a miracle as it was devastation, and resulted in a series of events that would ultimately inspire positive change in many lives, mine most definitely included. 

Let’s first back up for a moment. This account might actually sound familiar to avid Examiner readers, from when my aunt shared about her diagnosis on these pages. But I’ll refresh your memories. 

The year was 2021, and Flern made a decision that ultimately saved her from a very different fate. Her similarly funny friend, Cheryl Katz, suggested she take an ancestry test with 23andMe, a genetic testing company that provides DNA analysis for ancestry and health insights. They only took the test as sort of a little joke, figuring that, with their shared Long Island Ashkenazi Jewish heritage, maybe they were cousins. 

So Flern spit into a small vial and sent it in the mail for a bunch of science nerds (like me) to analyze. 

Three weeks later, her results revealed more than just a confirmed family connection: she was BRCA2 positive. A devastating discovery for anyone familiar with the statistics. The mutation – common among Ashkenazi Jews – comes with an 86 percent increased risk of developing breast cancer, along with elevated risks for ovarian, pancreatic, and prostate cancers. It marked the start of a life filled with doctor visits and the constant fear of hearing the words no one ever wants to hear: You have cancer.

Faced with this terrifying news, my aunt made a choice – she would have preemptive surgery, both a double mastectomy and an oophorectomy (a surgical removal of ovaries) to stop the cancer before it ever had the chance to develop.

These were major surgeries, and a brave decision I admire deeply. I often wonder what I would have done in her shoes. 

Yet the true miracle, as I called it, was still to come.

‘Nothing Short of Extraordinary’

In a sort of a paradoxical manner, this miracle came in the form of a cancer diagnosis. In her preoperative MRI, the doctors revealed she had developed ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS). She had breast cancer. Stage zero, and caught incredibly, improbably and almost impossibly early, thanks to that serendipitous ancestry test performed on a lark. So early that it would not have even appeared on her next mammogram. 

In other words, spitting into that vial for 23andMe uncovered the mutation that saved her life.

These days, a couple of major surgeries and lots of hot flashes later, Flern is cancer-free and living her best life. She has two kids in college, a loving husband, and a pair of cute cats (as well as the best nieces ever).

Her cancer survival story could have ended there – with a happy outcome and a return to normal life. But instead, she chose a different path: one of purpose, of giving back, and of turning her experience into a force for others.

She felt a deep need to make a difference. After The Examiner stopped printing earlier this year (Flern had been the longtime associate publisher), she found a new way to use her skills and experience – one that let her help others even more directly. (And yes, she does love working with her brother – my dad, Adam, the guy publishing these words. We’re proud nepo babies.)

Flern decided to reach out to an organization with the same priorities: Support Connection, a Yorktown Heights-based nonprofit offering free emotional, social, and educational support to people affected by breast, ovarian, and gynecological cancers. She recognized a new opportunity to apply her skills and experiences in a way that could directly assist others facing similar challenges.

What sets Support Connection apart is that their counselors are all survivors themselves, making the support they provide deeply personal and meaningful. During her own breast cancer journey, Flern turned to the group for resources, describing their work as “nothing short of extraordinary.”

She secured a job as a peer counselor in March, just before her 52nd birthday, offering personalized care to patients whose shoes she was once in. Through this work, she has discovered her true calling.

And that brings us back to the dining hall scene at Somers Pointe Country Club I opened with – an emotional moment, filled with applause from about 100 people, that I witnessed with a full heart this past Sunday.

Hope Takes Flight 

On June 1, Support Connection hosted Celebrate Life Day, an event honoring strength and survivorship, open to anyone whose life has been touched by cancer.

“Our purpose is to be there for people who are dealing with cancer. So whether it be emotional support or giving information, we are there,” Support Connection Executive Director Kathy Quinn explained. “So this [event] ties in [to that purpose] because our mission is about celebrating you. Cancer is a part of your life you can’t avoid or deny, but it does not define you.” 

The event was dedicated to Support Connection co-founder and major supporter Nancy Heller, and while the entire program was deeply moving – bringing many, including myself, to tears – the moment that truly moved me, and just about everyone in the room, was my aunt’s speech.

It was both moving and, at times, a little funny to see Flern so genuinely earnest. As powerful a speaker and force of nature as she is, those who know her expect humor – even in dark moments. 

Sitting at the table with my dad, granddad, uncle, and cousin, I watched her lean almost entirely into sincerity, with just a hint of her classic roast comedy when she joked that she took the ancestry test to research the family’s oddities, calling us, her assembled family, “weird.”

“Before cancer, I thought I knew what it meant to celebrate life – birthdays, holidays, big milestones,” Flern reflected in one of the more serious moments. “I was always chasing the next big event, the next item on my to-do list. But after cancer, I’ve learned that real celebration happens in the quiet, everyday moments: the warmth of morning sunlight, a walk with someone you love, a deep conversation, a moment of laughter that turns into tears. There are things I used to overlook. Now they’re the things I cherish most.” 

At the event, my aunt also launched a new campaign of her own inspiration called Hope Takes Flight. For a modest donation of just $20, Support Connection will create an origami crane in honor of a loved one, accompanied by a personalized message. These cranes will be displayed at the Support-A-Walk on Sunday, October 5, at FDR State Park in Yorktown.

The idea draws from the Japanese tradition that folding 1,000 paper cranes grants a wish. My uncle Paul and cousin Ariel have already begun folding, bringing the tribute to life.

In fact, the Hope Takes Flight campaign, paired with Flern’s moving words, inspired me to write this story – it’s one that truly deserves to be told.

Puzzle Piece

Yet there is one last missing piece to this narrative puzzle. Why have I included myself as a character in this piece? The story would be just as meaningful without my personal point of view. The reason is because I know how much my aunt’s story has inspired me as well in very concrete ways. 

When Flern received her diagnosis, I was at a strange point in my life. I had just started high school, and I had not yet found my place in the world.

But when my parents told me those jarring words, I suddenly had a purpose. I joined my school’s science research program, reading countless articles on cancer, seeking meaning within the scientific jargon. Looking for answers. In a short time, my first paper on prostate cancer will be published in a scientific journal. 

Now I’m 18 years old and heading to Vassar College this fall to study biology – specifically, to pursue cancer research. My aunt’s story taught me that knowledge is power. And if it brings comfort to anyone out there, I truly believe (based on what I’ve learned so far) that we could be on the brink of something close to a cure. But this story is about more than just cancer. It’s about making the best of a bad situation.

So my final message is this: personal struggle is both an obligation and an opportunity to give back. Even when things feel hopeless, there’s still meaning and strength to be found.

Hope can always take flight.

Maddie Stone is a senior at Fox Lane High School.