It is cauterization day at the clinic.
The thing on my ear looks like a brown mole.
It is cancer.
I’m told it won’t kill me but if we don’t deal with it now
they will have to cut off a chunk of my ear later.
She jabs me in the ear with an instrument I have barely looked at.
It hurts and there is a crackling sound like sparks flashing and then I can smell the sickly sweet smell of my burnt flesh.
We are done.
I am grateful.
If only I could cook all my problems.