All right ... I have not had cancer, thankfully. But I had a traumatic c-section, which resulted in me bringing home a very medically complicated infant while still recovering from major surgery. I basically couldn't go anywhere and had severe postpartum depression. I remember that the outer incision was numb for a long time, and as it healed the scar tissue was white and cool (which is what the snow makes me think of). The isolation and terror of that time, the complete disconnect from the life that was going on outside, and the sense of violation, however necessary (in my case, having my abdomen and uterus cut open rather than breasts removed) is where this poem takes me.
I have no idea if any of that is helpful and I feel a bit badly for going on about myself ...
I think Richard's idea of moving the first couplet to the end is interesting. Not sure though as that beginning really pulled me in.
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