Emily Henderson: This too shall pass. Kia kaha.

We can't control what's coming: We can control how we respond. Photo / NZME

One moment I was strolling down Mt Taranaki in the sunshine, the next I was flat on my face in the dust and the holiday was over.

Two broken bones, surgery, three nights in the wonderful care of Whangārei Hospital and one bright red cast later, and as someone Thomas calls the world's most impatient patient, I'm coming to terms with the facts of life: The only certainty is uncertainty and no one with a busted leg, no matter how motivated, can manage without help.

Maybe we find accepting uncertainty – and frailty - harder than earlier generations. Brought up in comparative plenty and safety, the challenges for us middle-class kids have been mainly about self: A fulfilling job, a fitter body. Everyone a potential superhero/kung-fu master/business tycoon if we could only find the discipline/guru/shiny bullet-proof suit.

Deep breath, this too shall pass. (Mount Taranaki, broken leg on left)

Earlier generations, enduring the Great Depression and World War II, experiencing polio, measles and diphtheria up close and personal, did not have the luxury of imagining it was all in their control. From their hard-won knowledge that luck never lasts and individuals cannot resist the tides of history they created the lasting institutions of our state: A public health system and a social welfare safety net, built and maintained by collective responsibility. They built these defences precisely so we could live without fear and uncertainty. But of course the truth is that individual safety always depends upon maintaining that collective responsibility – whether it's road rules, taxation or mask-wearing - each doing our bit, knowing that together we manage better than we ever manage alone.

All very philosophical for someone confined to the couch, but hey, as the saying goes, when life gives you lemons, ruminate on the amazing privilege of a public health system.

Because that system is about to receive its greatest challenge. Meeting it will require the effort of all of us, including the need to roll with uncertainty.

If the experts are right – and they have been pretty accurate so far - the next couple of months will test us like nothing before. With lockdowns, vaccines and boosters we have bought ourselves time to set up our defences but Omicron will spread fast, and we are going to need to step in to protect our health system so that doctors and nurses can concentrate on the most serious cases while we fight the less serious ones ourselves. We are all – literally - the new Homefront.

We can't control what's coming; we can control how we respond. Step one: maintain the usual defences - masks and boosters are more important than they've ever been. Step two: make a plan for self-isolation, check online for what to have on hand, and learn more about the Leave Support Scheme and Short-term Absence payments. Ring or email my office if you need information.

Step three: as I sit here, unable to "step" much of anywhere, I'm using this calm before the storm to breathe deep, give up my control fetish and appreciate what I do have. I'm grateful for visits from my family and friends, that they can still go to the beach even if I can't, and for the comfort of the two dogs lying at the end of the room (they don't mind if I'm stuck home).

The truth is, accidents happen. There never were any superheroes. No plan was ever perfect and no plan ever got executed perfectly. There's only ever been us and our imperfections, our frailties, our uncertainties. Yet past trials prove that if we work together we can achieve against the odds. He waka eke noa. This too shall pass. Kia kaha.