A mother of a day

We hada wonderful Mother's Day 2009 today.

It began with a brunch at home with all the kids -- and I mean all the kids. That's something that doesn't happen

too often. Karen, Jen, Chris, Aimee and Luis all came to the house -- which, of course, means Emily was there too.

Kimberly's gift to her mom was a delicious meal of finger sandwiches and salads and dips, and Karen contributed with a yummy fruit tree.

After lunch we all posed for a family portrait -- I think it's our first in the 2000s.

Aimee and Emily say cheese.

Then, we were off to the movies to see the latest rendition of the Star Trek saga. I think Paramount will have a new generation of Trek fans on their hands.

Aunt Jen and Uncle Chris pose with Emily.

Here are some photos of the day, and a bit lower some extra shots of you know who.

Emily's already a month old

The old-timer we call our granddaughter, Emily Nunez, turns a month old today.

She was born four weeks and three days ago at Winnie Palmer Hospital for Women and Babies and since then has really developed quite a bit. She eats, she poops, which is all normal. But she also can roll over and has done so several times. She smiled at me briefly. And during a bonding session last night, she whispered how much she loves her grandpa. Of course it sounded like a burp, but I know better.

To mark the occasion, here are some photos of Emily shot last night.

Can never get enough Emily

Aimee and Emily paid a visit to the office on Tuesday, and it was a nice chance to introduce my little granddaughter to many friends still in the office at that hour.

Here are a couple of photos taken in the newsroom. As you can see, daylight came and went as I stood in front of my desk in the same position for hours. And Emily, the official Orlando Sentinel newsroom napper, didn't budge.

Is she cute, or what? No need to answer; I already know what you're going to say.

Records come, records go

Earlier today, the 17,000th visitor to my blogs, CancerVivor.blogspot.com and kohnzone.blogspot.com, stopped by for a few.

They were greeted by either photos of a really cute newborn named Emily (kohnzone) or some less than cute images of the inner workings of my body (CancerVivor).

At the former, I was announcing the birth of my first grandchild and showing off some photos. That's pretty self-explanatory, so I'll focus on the cancer site.

There, as I have since it launched, I am trying to educate as many people as possible about esophageal cancer and how to avoid it.

So I'll rehash some things I've said in the past:

First, YES! You can get cancer from heartburn. It's not all that difficult, apparently. I did it. Just eat spicy foods -- lots of them -- mixed with greasy, unhealthy items. For a long time. That will set you in the right direction. To follow up, avoid seeing a doc about heartburn or taking meds to treat it. Then, when the heartburn fades away suddenly, think of it as a blessing that your self-medication has helped, not the condition know as Barrett's Esophagus which masks a pre-cancerous condition. If any of these symptoms occur, longtime heartburn or sudden discontinuation of heartburn for no real reason, see a doctor.

Second, esophageal cancer survival is so low because it often is diagnosed in advanced stages. For me, the tumor was large enough to block much of my swallowing, but not all. So if you find it difficult to get food from your mouth to your stomach, see a doctor. The sooner the better.

Third, statistically, esophageal cancer is growing, both nationwide and in Florida. It continues to be very lethal, as noted above. Of the 1,170 Floridians to come down with the disease, 1,010 people died in the American Cancer Society's most recent statistical report. The numbers were grim nationwide as well in 2008: 16,470 new cases and 14,280 deaths.

There's a five-year survivability rate of 34 percent for those with the cancer contained to the esophagus, as mine was, so I'm not nearly out of the woods yet. For all stages of the cancer, the survivability rate plunges to 16 percent.

When diagnosed, I was staged at 2 to 3, meaning it was advanced but had not yet spread to the lymphatic system. That's what saved my life -- so far.

Across the country, esophageal cancer is the seventh-leading form of cancer among men, claiming 11,250 lives -- or 4 percent of all male cancer deaths.

So please, please, if any of this sounds like you, get help. Get it now. Do not wait. I'm not a doctor but I can speak from experience and, sadly, this is an area in which I have experience. Be cautions and take a proactive stance.

It could save your life.

Little Emily is born

Emily Nunez was born Jan. 24, at 12:14 p.m. She weighed 7 pounds, 11 ounces, was 21 inches long (tall?) and is just adorable.

Mother Aimee Nunez, my second-youngest daughter, is doing grand and her hubby, Luis, is dancing on the clouds.

Today, Saturday, Jan. 25, is the only day in her life that Emily -- if she could talk -- would be able to legitimately ask, "What do I look, like I was born yesterday?" and mean it.

I'm posting several photos so you can judge for yourself whether she's the cutest 2-day-old baby you've ever seen, or at least seen today.

Enjoy.

Emily Snoozes.

Aimee and Emily.

The happy parents with Emily.

Sometimes she gets antsy.

Yes, Catherine and I are happy grandparents.

Karen loves her little niece.

Jen wants one just like this.

Kim holds her littlest niece.

Theresa holds Emily.

Emily takes a rest.

Mom and Dad pose with Emily.

Luis takes a nap.

Grandma loves her little dumpling.

Isn't she cute?

That's my little girl.

Just when you thought it was safe...

Just like the ads for the Jaws sequel, there's always something lurking.

For me, I learned this past summer when I met my family in California, heart disease is a part of my genetic history. My father had the first of his three heart attacks at age 35. My brother Dan suffered a heart attack just a few months ago; thankfully he survived and is thriving.

So while I'm surprised that I've had some discomfort and all in the past few weeks, I'm not shocked. After all, some 24.1 million Americans had some form of heart disease, roughly 11 percent of the population, in 2006. There were 652,091 deaths caused by heart disease in 2006, ranking it as the nation's top killer with a rate of 222 per 100,000 people in the general population.

All that said, I met with Dr. James A. Miner of Florida Heart Group on Tuesday (photo from the Florida Heart Group Web site). He was concerned with the repeated chest discomfort I've experienced in the past few weeks and sent me onto the treadmill. I kept up well, though got out of breath when the tech set the machine at the Mount Everest-level climb. Dr. Miner sat in on the test and then reviewed the printouts.

Afterwards he offered this summary: "Either it's nothing or it's something." I'm happy with the former, less so with the latter. If it's something, it may be a clogged artery, meaning I'd need a stent.

To find out, on Friday I wake up very early and go in for a cardiac catheterization. This is where they slink a very thin tube up to the heart through arteries in the leg. There, with the aid of X-rays and a fluroscope, the doctor can observe the heart and decide whether there's a problem.

I've spoken to a few people who have undergone the procedure and all pretty much assured me there's a very low level of discomfort. Actually, one assistant at Dr. Miner's office said there's some pretty good pain drugs afterward. I guess that's the reward for good behavior.

I'll post updates Friday after the procedure and will tray to grab a couple of images from the doctor to post.

Meantime, it is safet to go into the water. Just watch where your step.