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I think a good option, but what when you want to remove it. 9mm is ch 27. Thats mutch for the sphinkter. I have no idea how to fold the metal stent. Has anybody seen a Video to remove them from a atery?

Hello everyone 👋 It means so much to me you all are enjoying my story. I’m very proud of how this story is shaping up. I have just completed 3 additional short stories that all take place in the same universe as this. However, those won’t be uploaded until after this one wraps up.  and now onto the next chapter…. Chapter 28 : The movie carried on, bright colors flickering across the screen as the little fish darted through coral reefs and open water. Jack barely moved, completely absorbed.   “Fishy…” he whispered again, pointing as a group of them swam by. “More fishy.”   Jill smiled, brushing a hand gently through his hair. “You really like this one, huh?”   Jack nodded without taking his eyes off the screen.   Marcus stretched his arms out along the back of the couch, glancing between Jack and the TV. “I think we found his favorite.”   “Looks like it,” Jill replied softly.   Time passed in that quiet, cozy way where no one really noticed the minutes slipping by. The movie eventually started to wind down, the music softening as the story reached its ending. Jack’s energy had faded a bit too—his earlier excitement settling into a calm, sleepy focus.   He leaned slightly into Jill’s side, his grip on the blanket loosening.   Jill noticed right away. “Someone’s getting tired,” she murmured.   Marcus checked the time on his phone. “Yeah… and it’s getting close to dinner, too.”   Jill nodded. “We should probably start thinking about that.”   The credits began to roll, and the room grew a little quieter without the constant chatter of the movie. Jack blinked slowly, like he was deciding whether he wanted to stay awake or drift off.   “Hey, buddy,” Marcus said gently, leaning forward a bit. “You still with us?”   Jack gave a small nod, though it was clear he was a little worn out.   Jill shifted slightly, sitting up straighter while still holding him close. “Alright, let’s not fall asleep just yet,” she said softly. “Let’s get you moving a little.”   She helped him sit up fully, adjusting the blanket around him. Jack rubbed one of his eyes and looked around, reorienting himself now that the TV wasn’t holding all his attention.   Marcus stood up and stretched. “I can start on dinner,” he offered. “Keep it simple.”   “Sounds good,” Jill said. “Nothing too heavy.”   Marcus headed into the kitchen, opening the fridge and scanning what they had. “We’ve got a few options,” he called out. “Could do something quick—maybe pasta or sandwiches.”   “Pasta might be nice,” Jill replied. “Something warm.”   As Marcus started pulling out ingredients, Jill helped Jack off the couch and onto his feet.   “Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s wake those legs up.”   Jack wobbled slightly at first but steadied himself, still a bit groggy. “Fishy done?” he asked.   “Yeah, the fishy movie is all done,” Jill said with a small smile. “But maybe we can watch it again another time.”   Jack seemed to accept that, though he glanced once more at the now-dark TV screen.   From the kitchen, the soft sounds of cooking began—water running, a pot being set on the stove, cabinets opening and closing. The normal rhythm of the evening started to settle in.   Jill guided Jack back toward the play area for a bit while dinner got started. “You can play for a little while,” she told him. “Then we’ll eat.”   Jack picked up his dinosaur again, though his movements were slower this time, his earlier energy replaced with a calmer, quieter play.   Marcus peeked back into the living room. “Water’s boiling,” he said. “Won’t be too long.”   Jill nodded. “Perfect.”   The warm, familiar feeling of an evening routine began to take shape—the kind that came after a full day. Between the laughter, the small challenges, and the quiet moments, they were easing into something that felt almost natural.   And as the smell of dinner slowly began to fill the space, it was clear the day was winding down, one gentle step at a time.   The soft bubbling of water in the kitchen turned into a steady boil, and soon the sound of pasta being poured into the pot followed.   “Spaghetti it is,” Marcus called out. “And I found some meatballs in the freezer.”   “Perfect,” Jill replied from the living room, watching Jack stack and unstack a couple of his toys with slow, sleepy focus.   Before long, the smell of tomato sauce began to fill the apartment—rich and warm, instantly more tempting than anything earlier in the day.   Jack paused mid-play and sniffed the air. “Smells…” he started, searching for the word.   “Good?” Jill offered.   Jack nodded. “Good.”   Marcus peeked around the corner with a grin. “You’ve got a good nose, buddy.”   A little while later, Marcus set the table and portioned everything out. He made sure to set aside a small, manageable serving for Jack—cut up carefully so it would be easier for him.   Jill walked Jack over to the high chair again. “Alright, dinner time.”   Jack looked at the table, clearly interested this time. “Spaghetti?” he asked hopefully.   Jill smiled—but shook her head just a little. “Not yet.”   Jack’s face fell slightly as she reached for a familiar container.   “First, you need to finish this,” she said, holding up the baby food. “Then you can have some spaghetti and meatballs.”   Jack sighed, slumping back just a bit. “Again?”   Marcus chuckled as he took a seat. “Just a little bit. You’ve got this.”   Jill scooped up a spoonful and held it out. “Open.”   Jack hesitated, glancing longingly at Marcus’s plate, where the spaghetti was already twirled neatly on a fork. After a second, he gave in and opened his mouth.   “Good job,” Jill said, feeding him the first bite.   He chewed slowly, clearly less enthusiastic than before. “Still carrots…”   Jill smiled. “Maybe. But you’re almost done.”   Spoonful by spoonful, Jack worked his way through it, occasionally looking over at the real food like it might disappear if he didn’t watch it closely enough.   Marcus leaned over slightly. “The faster you finish, the faster you get to try this,” he said, lifting a forkful for emphasis.   That seemed to motivate Jack a little more. He opened his mouth quicker this time, determined.   Finally, Jill scraped the last bit from the container. “And… done!”   Jack perked up immediately. “Spaghetti now?”   Jill laughed softly. “Yes, now.”   Marcus slid the small plate over, and Jill helped guide Jack’s hand with a fork. The noodles were cut shorter, easier to manage.   “Careful, it’s a little warm,” she said.   Jack took a bite—and his expression changed instantly. His eyes widened just like they had with the chocolate milk earlier.   “…Good,” he said, more certain this time.   Marcus grinned. “Told you.”   Jack eagerly took another bite, then another, small but excited. A bit of sauce ended up on his cheek, but he didn’t seem to care at all.   “Meatball?” he asked, pointing.   Jill cut a tiny piece and handed it to him. “Try it.”   He chewed thoughtfully, then nodded. “Like it.”   “Look at that,” Marcus said. “Expanding your menu.”   Dinner settled into a comfortable rhythm—Jill helping Jack with bites here and there, Marcus eating his own meal while keeping an eye on them. There were small laughs when Jack got a little messy, and quiet encouragement when he tried something new.   By the end, Jack leaned back slightly in his chair, full and content, a faint smear of sauce still on his face.   “All done?” Jill asked.   Jack nodded. “Full.”   Marcus stood and grabbed a cloth. “Alright, cleanup crew.”   Jill lifted Jack from the high chair while Marcus wiped down his face and hands again.   “You did really well,” Jill said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head.   Jack smiled, a little drowsy now, but happy.   As Marcus cleared the dishes and the kitchen settled into its post-dinner quiet, the three of them drifted back toward the living room—full, a little tired, and easing into the calm of the evening after a long, eventful day.   “Alright,” Jill announced once the last dish was put away and the kitchen was clean, “bath time.”   Marcus leaned against the counter with a small grin. “Round two.”   Jack looked between them, not entirely sure how to feel—but when Jill reached for his hand, he followed along anyway.   Back in the bathroom, the routine started up again. The tub filled with warm water, steam lightly fogging the mirror. Jill tested the temperature with her hand.   “Nice and warm,” she said. “Just how we want it.”   Marcus crouched by the cabinet and opened it, digging around for a moment before pulling something out. “Oh—almost forgot these.”   He held up a small box.   “Bath crayons?” Jill asked, amused.   Jack’s eyes lit up. “Draw?”   “Yep,” Marcus said. “You can draw on the tub walls.”   That was all the convincing Jack needed.   Jill helped him out of his diaper and gently set him into the tub. The moment he was in, he splashed lightly, bubbles shifting around him as he settled.   “Okay, okay,” Jill laughed. “Not too wild.”   Jack grabbed one of the crayons and hesitated for just a second before pressing it against the side of the tub. A bright line appeared.   He blinked.   “I did that,” he said, almost surprised.   Marcus chuckled. “Yeah, you did.”   Soon, Jack was fully engaged—drawing wobbly shapes, lines, and what he insisted were “fishy,” all while occasionally splashing and playing with the bath toys floating nearby.   Jill poured a little water over his hair, gently working in soap. “Tilt your head back for me.”   Jack did, though he squinted as a bit of water ran down his forehead.   The room felt light—filled with small laughs, the sound of water, and Jack’s quiet commentary as he pointed out his drawings.   Inside, though, Jack’s thoughts drifted in a way he couldn’t quite explain.   This is… nice, he thought, watching the bubbles gather around his hands. But it’s weird too.   He looked at the crayon again, then at his small fingers holding it.   I used to do bigger things… I think. Talk more. Eat real food whenever I wanted.   He frowned slightly, then splashed the water again, breaking the thought.   But… they’re taking care of me.   He glanced up at Jill and Marcus.   They’re nice. Even if I don’t like the baby food.   “Whatcha thinking about?” Marcus asked, noticing Jack go quiet for a moment.   Jack shook his head. “Nothing.”   “Alright,” Jill said, rinsing the last of the soap from his hair. “Let’s get you out.”   She wrapped him up in a soft towel as soon as he stood, drying him off carefully.   “Dino Dan to the rescue,” Marcus said, noticing the towel design.   Jack smiled faintly at that.   They made their way to the nursery, the lighting softer now, calmer. Jill laid Jack down on the changing table and got to work.   “Fresh diaper,” she said, fastening it snugly. “And clean pajamas.”   She held up the set. “Look what you’ve got tonight.”   Jack looked closely—little fish patterns covered the fabric.   “Fishy…” he said, a small smile returning.   “Just like your movie,” Jill said.   Once he was dressed, Marcus stepped in, holding a bottle. “Got his nightcap ready.”   Jill settled into the rocking chair, cradling Jack as she guided the bottle to him. He drank quietly, his earlier energy fading completely now.   The gentle rocking, the dim light, the warmth—it all started to pull him toward sleep.   I’m really tired, he thought, blinking slowly. Today was… a lot.   He leaned into Jill slightly.   But not all bad.   After the bottle was finished, Jill carefully stood and placed him into the crib. Marcus had already turned on the nightlight, casting a soft glow across the room. The toys were neatly put away, everything calm and in its place.   Jill leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, Jack.”   Marcus gave a small wave. “Sleep well, buddy.”   Jack looked up at them, eyes heavy.   “Night…” he murmured.   As they stepped out and the room grew quieter, Jack stared at the soft light for a moment longer.   I don’t understand everything…   His eyes slowly closed.   But I think I’m okay.   Within moments, he drifted off to sleep, the day finally coming to a gentle end.

There's also Mother's Day and Father's Day for alternates especially since I don't think many people celebrate May Day (at least I don't)

My 7 year “nappy-versary” came and went without fanfare this week.  This wasn’t one of the lesser 7 year markers that have been passing by in the preceding months:  7 years since telling my beloved that henceforth I would be wearing nappies as I pleased instead of as she pleased, 7 years since going into nappies for days at a time, 7 years since trying out office work and corporate travel whilst nappy-clad, 7 years since going into nappies for nearly 3 months before (only briefly) coming out of them again. This was 7 years since I put a nappy on at LAX airport for my flight back home to Australia from the USA and stayed in them.  Permanently.  That was roughly 6,000 nappy changes ago.  I was disappointed to see that Hallmark have failed to create any kind of greeting card for this kind of occasion.  Perhaps I should design one and send it in to them.  Then I could buy it and send it to myself. My long-suffering beloved is still with me.  She still hates my nappies but at some level she seems to have resigned herself to them.  I also think that this is the year she’s begun to believe that by now I’m somewhat dependent on them anyway. At night that’s been a fair call for quite a while now.  My bedwetting is pretty frequent by now.  I still have “dry” nights here and there but to be honest, the whole “did I or did I not wet the bed?” thing has submerged (did you see what I did there?) from view.  I just assume that I will.  It seems a safe enough working assumption.  I’m never dry by morning and I rarely seem to need to pee at night that I can recall. At daytime, I’m probably more continent than she realises but possibly LESS continent than I realise. I can still choose to remain dry subject to the limits imposed by the urgency, frequency and incomplete-voiding issues that have manifested BUT I suspect there’s still a few daytime “accidents” happening here and there that I’m simply not noticing.  It’s not unusual anymore for me to find myself wet and then struggle to recall when this may have occurred.  On the other hand, maybe that’s dementia knocking. For long periods of time now I seem to need to “leak” nearly constantly during the day and whilst I feel I could slow this down to a less-abnormal cadence that seems like just such a burdensome thing to do.  So I don’t bother. I suspect that the odd incidents of “silent wetting” that I’ve mentioned before might be slowly creeping out of the shadows.  When these happen, I realise that I’m getting warm and wet in the relevant location but there’s no obvious sensation from my bladder that anything is going on.  These wettings seem to occur quite slowly and they tend to be not so big in volume so the leak risk remains low. They’re still not an everyday thing.  It remains to be seen if this consolidates and progresses or it’s just my imagination playing tricks.  If it’s real though, it would be actual incontinence.  These wetting events seem totally uncommanded and by the time I notice them occurring, it’s far too late and I can’t stop a pee that has started anymore anyway.  I’m still not sure they ARE real though.  There’s just so much conformational bias with this kind of thing that it can be hard to see through. The frequency of unplanned code-brown nappies remains reassuringly low but disturbingly above zero. They happen but are rare and invariably provoked by something I’ve eaten.  Mostly I can remain clean(ish) which is important to me.  I guess on the handful of occasions where I fail to achieve this objective well, at least I’m suitably dressed for them. Normalisation of nappies is very well progressed as you’d expect .For long tracts of time I often don’t notice I’m wearing them and as I’ve mentioned before this year, I’ve started to find myself forgetting that I’m wearing one which can be a little bit startling at first when you wet yourself. The sensation of being wet fades quickly (even in cloth) however and I forget them again although sagging and leaking remain annoying to me when those phenomena emerge.  Merely being in a wet nappy however is something I no longer notice unless I stop to think about it: its mobility/sagging/leaks that get all the attention. Despite this demise of novelty I find that I still have ZERO interest in coming out of them.  Of course, coming out of them by now would not be so simple.  I’d need to re-train myself to be dry at night (somehow) and I suspect there’d be quite a few “accidents” during the day now to boot.  It’s getting hard to remember what it’s like to NOT just automatically pee in my pants.  I could see myself in pull-ups for months trying to get things re-patterned. But I don’t want to do that.  Despite the expense, inconvenience and omnipresent risk of social sanction I *still* consider myself to be happier in nappies than out. So, we’ll see what year 8 brings.

Thank you for these sweet chapters!