By Katharhynn Heidelberg

The desert sun is violent-hot, scorching your fingers as they scrabble against the hard sand. It’s been a few days since your last sip of water, and now, even crawling is difficult. A drop of sweat rolls over your lips in faint mockery of the fact that you are dying of thirst. Then, you see it.

A big, tall container of water. It’s sealed off in a glass compartment, and there are other people drinking from it, but that doesn’t matter — there’s a lot. The problem is, each glass costs 50 cents; you don’t have two pennies to rub together, and no one can spare you the loan. So, you die.

Outrageous? Yes. But, even though analogies limp, the one above is true enough when speaking of cancer. It happens that cancer strikes the uninsured and the working poor, and it happens that benevolent programs have financial limitations. So, people die.

According to the Denver Post, there are between 50 and 80 women in Colorado who are dying of cancer without treatment. The story explains that these women — who work and pay taxes — have worked themselves right out of the medical-assistance programs those taxes pay for, and because of their low wages, cannot afford private medical coverage.

Five years ago, I got a taste of what it would be like to be one of those women. I was lucky: a federal act enabled the hospital to cover most of my costs and I did not, as was feared, have cancer.

The problem is, these sorts of federal programs are insufficient to help everyone. Hospitals participating in them must give priority to patients facing immediate emergencies, which often leaves those with long-term, life-threatening illnesses out in the cold.

But, hallelujah, a hard-working person can always budget for private insurance, right? Not always.

When I moved to the Front Range, I decided to buy private insurance because my job did not include benefits. I even found the number of a company that specialized in "affordable" medical insurance.

I never thought that "affordable" could be such a subjective term. The "deal" the salesman offered me amounted to most of a week’s pay each month. That may not seem like much, but the company forgot to factor in the little things — like rent, gas, outstanding debt and groceries — that make even cut-rate insurance a financial burden to the working poor.

These sad facts come up hard against other ones. Hospitals are expected to meet certain profit margins. Doctors like to eat, and deserve to be paid for services rendered. The cost of medicine is high. Anything that smacks of "socialized" medicine is controversial and becomes bogged down in debate.

That’s why the cancer-stricken uninsured are grasping at the few options available. The Susan G. Komen Foundation awards grant money to women with breast cancer. Such funds are raised in various ways, including "Plant for the Cure," an independent promotion in which a local garden center is participating. Too, the state legislature is considering a bill that would create a trust fund, matched by federal money, to pay for the diagnosis and treatment of breast and cervical cancers.

These noble efforts prove that this particular plight is not being ignored. However, for now, people continue to die when proven treatments are available. The capability exists to save them, but doctors and hospitals are bound by a system that sometimes makes it impossible.