Being a dad isn’t easy. You have plenty of responsibilities on your plate, and a trip to the emergency room is the last thing you need this Father’s Day. But if, on June 21, you do find yourself in a pinch—or a scrape—ICD-10 offers the perfect, and most specific, code for your injury. Interest piqued? Well then, you’re in luck. Because just like the theme song to “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” says, “Now, here is the story all about how your life got flipped—turned upside-down. And I’d like to take a minute; just sit right there. I’ll tell you all about some diagnosis codes that weren’t pulled out of thin-air.” That’s how the tune goes, right? No? Oh well. Here’s the story:
The Early Bird Gets the Burn
Happy Father’s Day! It’s 6:30 AM, the kids aren’t quite awake, and your wife is still snoozin’. You seize this rare opportunity make yourself a cup of coffee. Plus, you might just get to drink it while it’s still hot. Mmm. Sweet molten java. You lift the cup to your lips and BAM! Your child comes running around the corner and slams into the table. Pretty soon, you’re wearing your sacred boiling cup of caffeine and you’ve earned yourself a diagnosis of: “T20.03XA Burn of unspecified degree of chin. Initial encounter.” Ouch.
The Peanut Butter Wins
Okay, now that your kid has slammed his or her head into the table, your wife is awake, and your other child is crying from the bedroom, it’s obviously time for breakfast, and even though it’s technically Father’s Day, you’re the chef. Nursing your scalding chin, you head over to the freezer and pop some frozen waffles in the toaster. What does your wife and kids love best with their waffles? Peanut butter. Unfortunately for you, you discovered within the last year that you’re actually allergic to peanuts. But as long as you keep the gooey goodness on the knife, you should be okay. As you spread the peanut butter on the waffles, you chat with your family about the day’s plans, absentmindedly licking your fingers. Uh oh. Your lips begin to swell and you’re quite sure you’re experiencing your good-ol’ “Z91.010: Allergy to peanuts.” You quickly rinse out your mouth, and your wife grabs a benadryl. It looks like it’s naptime for you, poor Dad. And the score? Peanut butter: 1. Dad: 0.
Swing, Batter, Bad-er?
You wake up from your anti-histamine-induced dream, ready to take on the rest of your holiday. Your family bought all of you tickets to the game. What game? The baseball game of the season. Even better, you have great seats. The family piles into the car, and you head to the stadium. With the best view in the house, you’re getting in on all of the action. And—of course—your team is winning. The game is so good that you forget about your burnt, and swollen, face. It’s now the eighth inning, and the visiting team is up to bat. You quietly whisper “strike,” but much to your dismay, the batter hits the ball so hard you hear a deafening “crack.” But the sound wasn’t coming from the bat smashing into the baseball, but rather the baseball smashing into your head. Diagnosis? “W21.03XA, Struck by baseball, initial encounter.” Next thing you know, you’re at the hospital with a doctor hovering over you. “Good game,” you say.
What a day. You’re on some effective pain medication as you finally pull up to the house, about 7:00 or 8:00. You yell to your kiddos, “Yo, smell ya later.” You look at your kingdom and you’re finally there, to sit on your throne as the Father of the Year. And before you know it, it’s June 22, and this Father’s Day is finally—and painfully—over. You can’t wait to see what next year has in store. You’re sure your family will hit it out of the park—and hopefully not into your head.
On a more serious note to all of you dads out there: Thanks for all that you do for your families. We hope you this holiday is injury-free and fun-filled.