>Poop Smugglers!

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When we went to see Maya’s DAN! doctor in Singapore, we did some medical tests which were not available in Malaysia. We have done hair analysis, blood tests, urine & stool samples. Because Maya is still not potty trained and with her constipation issues, we could only fill in the test kits once we got back home to KL. 

After painstaking efforts to collect urine and stool samples (gross, but someone had to do it) we had to place it in the containers and prepare the samples accordingly. It wasn’t just a matter of putting the samples in a sterile container, these tests had several specially prepared containers with different liquid preparations in them which we had to mix the samples in. Then we sealed up the test kits and packed it carefully together with ice packs in order to maintain ‘freshness’.
For 3 whole days I went around KL with the samples in my beloved Fendi handbag, going from postoffice to numerous courier companies begging them to send it to Singapore. In my naivety I `declared’ the contents of the shipment; naturally no one wanted to deliver human remains. Even after getting a letter from the doctor, obtaining special shipment declaration etc., I was getting nowhere. 
I was getting increasingly frustrated. There’s a certain time limit for the samples to be viable, and we were running out of time. Those test kits are very expensive (RM1100 for the urine test and RM1300 for the stool test) so failure was not an option. 
With 1 day left before I had to fly off to Atlanta, Paul volunteered to get on a Jet Star flight and deliver it personally to the doctor. My heroic husband was trying to look cool while the the airport authorities scanned his hand luggage. He was carrying a bag loaded with stool & urine samples and several ice packs.

Luckily, he made it through. I wonder how Customs officials would react if they knew what Paul had in his laptop bag. The test results have come back, we’ve gained some very important information and we can now go forward with her treatments. 
To this day, I swear my handbag still stinks after the humiliation I subjected it to. Note to self, treat couture with respect.
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