I was never any good at PE. At school, I was a member of Team David HaMelech (the ones who always lost — all the victories went to Team Bialik).

So perhaps it’s surprising that I’m reaching for a sports metaphor now. But I’d like you to imagine a giant tug of war. And every one of us is holding the rope.

At one end is birth and at the other, death. All of us exist in tension between those two points, for our whole life. We are all living and we are all dying. Most people my age are holding the rope at a just-past-middle-ish position but because I am living with multiple myeloma, an incurable (but treatable) cancer, I might be a little closer to the dying end. Nevertheless, with the help of medical professionals, I am pulling as hard as I can for Team Living.

And this is why it saddens me when people campaign for assisted dying.

Rabbi Romain’s eloquent words recently in favour of legalised assisted dying truly moved me. But I cannot help feeling that they detract from the value of my life and that of others like me. And they have consequences for all of us.

If campaigners pull the tug-of-war rope towards dying, it drags everyone else who is holding the rope in the direction of death. Kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh. Kol Bnei Yisrael, in fact, all humanity, is responsible for each other.

Partly it’s just a vanity thing, I suppose, a concern that people will see me differently if “being seriously ill” is equated with “might as well be dead”. A supercharged version of wearing the no-hoper green sports bib of David Hamelech, rather than the red one of Bialik. (Apologies to any former members of David HaMelech who feel slighted. It’s how I remember it, anyway.)

More importantly, I wouldn’t want anyone who is diagnosed with an incurable illness to instantly feel they are dying.

The late John Diamond joked that he went in to see his oncologist and also saw a second person, cloaked, with a scythe. When I was diagnosed, yes, I did initially hear this as “you are dying”, but I have since discovered that incurable illness doesn’t stop me working, parenting, grandparenting, writing, dancing — emphatically living.

My biggest concern, though, is the effect of assisted-dying legislation in a hospital setting, where it poses a threat to human rights.

I understand that campaigners for assisted dying truly believe that there will be legal safeguards for those who do not wish to die. But you have only to look at the way the rules on DNACPR (do not attempt CPR) are enforced now to see that won’t be the way things play out. With “DNACPR” on your medical notes, if your heart stops in the hospital, nobody comes running with the crash trolley.

Perhaps you assume DNACPR is a compassionate option for patients who would prefer a “clean death”, if they are elderly and have multiple health issues (because God forbid we should try to alleviate these with better social care). And it’s true patients can opt in to DNACPR.

However, DNACPR can also be imposed by a doctor.

The patient and their family have no veto. If you like, the doctor is a professional tug of war scout, with an armful of green and red bibs.

The doctor is supposed to “explain” the decision to impose DNACPR, but judging by my personal experience of accompanying elderly relatives to hospital, “explaining” easily tips over into “persuading”.

In the last years of my mother’s life (she was a lifelong campaigner against assisted dying), I was constantly having to defend her rights against a team of healthcare professionals.

Proponents of legalised assisted dying draw parallels with other countries where it has worked well (they say). But surely DNACPR — as enforced here, now, in the NHS — is a better test case for how legalised assisted dying would be implemented in the UK?

The rope is pulling in the wrong direction. Those of us in the middle of the tug of war rope can feel our feet slipping.

Many people living with incurable illness do need assistance. Financial support if it’s harder to work. Social care. Childcare. Help with mental wellbeing. Research funding and access to life-prolonging drugs.

So I would say to all compassionate campaigners, pull hard on that rope — but first, choose your side carefully. This is a debate that we cannot afford to get wrong.

Come round to Team Living. And assist us with all your strength.