At the coalface of a crisis: Kerry Chant has her hands firmly on the wheel

Kerry Chant spends a fair bit of time on the road at the moment. The state's Chief Health Officer, who lives in Epping, starts her working day at the State Emergency Operations Centre in Homebush before an 8am news conference. Later, she heads to NSW Health's temporary headquarters in St Leonards. Much later, probably after 10pm, she goes home.

At least there's not much traffic, Chant notes.

Dr Kerry Chant, NSW Chief Health Officer, at the department's St Leonards office on Good Friday.Credit: Dominic Lorrimer

The woman leading the state's health response to the coronavirus pandemic is in many ways a classic bureaucrat, not given to talking about herself and much happier waxing lyrical about the credentials of her team.

But it is her name on the box, and much as former Rural Fire Service boss Shane Fitzsimmons' daily briefings came to define the summer, Chant is now a daily fixture in the lives of this state. Has she figured out a way to deal with the pressure?

"It's probably to have a cup to tea," Chant says. "I hate to say that, because it sounds so trite. For me it's about trying to get a pause – just trying to get a moment to reflect.

"I think one of the key challenges is making sure that you've got enough time to do the strategic discussion and the strategic thinking whilst you're in the reactive mode."

Often that strategic powwow comes in the form of a late-night phone call with Paul Kelly (the deputy federal chief medical officer, not the singer-songwriter) or someone else in the vast health network who is trying to navigate a way through this unprecedented crisis.

Getting away from the "reactive mode" has been difficult of late, mainly thanks to the virus-laden Ruby Princess cruise ship, which has become the bane of NSW Health's existence. Mick Fuller, the police commissioner and now leader of the state's overall COVID-19 response, is running an investigation into what happened and why the ship was able to dock in Sydney Harbour. Chant says there are lessons to learn but will let the investigation take its course.

At a news conference last Saturday, amid a strident effort to defend his department over the scandal, Health Minister Brad Hazzard mentioned Chant had worked 31 straight hours before fronting the cameras the previous weekend. "She won't want me to say this," he added. "She hadn't slept."

Her interview with The Sun-Herald takes place at lunchtime on Good Friday, normally one of the most sacrosanct of public holidays on the calendar, on the 11th floor of the department's modest HQ in St Leonards. The best feature of the office is its view out to the bridge and city skyline.

Chant says she has made it to the supermarket just once in the past eight weeks: she was pleased to witness social distancing measures and hand sanitiser at the store, as well as staff monitoring customers' compliance. Her 19-year-old daughter, who lives at home, has been doing most of the cooking.

Like the rest of us, Chant misses things about her normal life. Most of all, at the moment, it's her mother. "My mum's in an aged-care facility and it's in lockdown, so I'm missing seeing her."