On August 8, 45-year-old Yoo Go-woon heard from her doctor that there was “no hope left.” It had been just over three years since she was diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer in April 2022. Yoo began preparing a “final statement” for her three sons and husband, testimony that would be used in a lawsuit seeking recognition of her work-related illness.

Despite her limited time, Yoo embarked on a lawsuit that could drag on indefinitely. On September 23, at the hospice ward of the National Cancer Center in Goyang, Gyeonggi Province, she spoke about why she pursued the occupational injury claim. As she recounted her years working as a children’s television producer, a faint smile appeared on her gaunt face.

After graduating with a degree in media advertising, Yoo entered the broadcasting industry with no clear goals or connections. She applied for a freelance stage manager (FD) position on a whim and was assigned to create props for EBS’s children’s program “Farting King Pung Pung.” She spent hours cutting toilet paper into apple shapes and folding colored paper, “small, unremarkable tasks,” but tasks she found fun. Even sleepless nights spent making over 100 props at a time brought her joy. “I imagined the children running around and having fun with what I made,” she recalled. Thus began her life as a producer, “both a poison and a happiness in my life.”

In 2005, Yoo joined the cable channel Daekyo Children’s TV. Despite constant scolding, she found her work increasingly enjoyable, feeling amazed to see her name in the credits. During her 16 years at the small station, she secured 1.6 billion won in government grants for programs she had planned herself and won ten awards. Though she had three children and could barely take parental leave due to heavy workloads, she bore it because “that’s what a producer must do.” She considered herself lucky to be doing work she loved.

In November 2021, Yoo received health check results showing tumor marker levels three times higher than normal. At the time, she was managing two TV programs simultaneously. She informed her company, but her workload did not decrease. When she asked to adjust her schedule, she was told only to “show responsibility.” Five months later, in April 2022, her tumor marker soared from 127 to 1,171. With her team leader’s permission, she canceled recordings and went to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer.

Last year, during company restructuring, Yoo was encouraged to resign. Around the same time, her cancer recurred. When she left the company in July that year, she sent a farewell email to colleagues: “Please remember how much effort I put in, so I can leave the company I cared for with affection.” The company ignored her request. When Yoo submitted her occupational injury claim to the Korea Workers’ Compensation & Welfare Service, the company submitted a statement denying long working hours. Devoting her whole body to the company, Yoo began researching case law and academic papers to protect her health.

Yoo tracked her editing program usage to calculate her own working hours. Between her health check and cancer diagnosis, she worked 600 hours of overtime over 25 weeks. Ovarian cancer risk is higher for women with few pregnancies or a family history of the disease. Since Yoo had three children and no family history, she believed her repeated night shifts and chronic overwork caused her cancer. In fact, in July last year, the Korea Workers’ Compensation & Welfare Service recognized a case in which a nurse developed breast cancer due to night shift work. Yet in April this year, the agency rejected Yoo’s claim, citing insufficient scientific evidence linking long hours to ovarian cancer.

Now in a hospice ward, Yoo is preparing her final administrative lawsuit. Knowing it could take a year before the trial begins, she pre-recorded her final statement. She left her husband a guide for raising their children, and wrote letters to her three sons beginning with “Be happy.” Throughout her life, Yoo had done her best to create “beneficial programming for children,” and now she wanted to leave something else behind. “I have truly been a happy person,” she said. “I did what I loved, and I got to fight for it. And though it’s a big dream… I hope my case can improve working conditions for other producers. That’s my wish.” Even now, determined to leave a meaningful precedent in the workplace she loved, Yoo is giving her all with the time she has left.