Begin with the case this page is asked about least and fills most often. Audubon has no hospital, no medical campus and no emergency room within its boundaries, and it has a population that ages in the houses it raised families in — so the ordinary get-well order to 08106 is not a ward delivery at all. It is a delivery to somebody four days out of a procedure, in a front room with the television on, at the start of a recovery that will run for weeks. That recipient is nothing like a patient in a bed. No policy governs what they may keep, nobody is rationing surface space, and whatever you send will be looked at from a sofa eight feet away for a fortnight. So aim low and dense rather than tall, choose a vessel that does not need topping up daily, and ask for it to be set on a table that is already within arm's reach. In a house this size a kitchen-table vase is in the field of view all day; a plant on a high shelf becomes part of the wall.
When it is a ward delivery, it leaves the borough on one of two very different kinds of road. The Camden hospitals are the near ones, and they are where an Audubon ambulance actually goes. Cooper University Hospital, at One Cooper Plaza, carries the region's Level I trauma verification, and its downtown campus also holds the MD Anderson cancer partnership and the Children's Regional Hospital. Virtua Our Lady of Lourdes stands on Haddon Avenue, a little inland from the river. Both are only minutes up the White Horse Pike and Crescent Boulevard, and on both the slow part of the trip is the final half mile through city streets. The suburban hospitals are further out but far easier driving: Jefferson keeps one on Chapel Avenue West in Cherry Hill and another at Stratford, and plenty of Audubon families still call them Kennedy, which is what they were before the merger. Virtua runs two more inside this radius, one on Bowman Drive in Voorhees and the other on Brick Road in Marlton, and Jefferson has a third out at Washington Township in Turnersville. Inspira's hospital is on North Broad Street in Woodbury. Over the bridges lie the Philadelphia rooms: Lankenau on Lancaster Avenue in Wynnewood, Penn Presbyterian at North 39th Street, and Children's Hospital of Philadelphia on Civic Center Boulevard.
The detail senders leave out is never the hospital name — it is the address inside the hospital. An order needs the floor, the unit and the bed, including the letter after the room number if there is one, plus a telephone that is inside the building: a relative's mobile, not a landline at home. Patients are moved. A trauma or cardiac admission downtown can change floors twice between breakfast and visiting hours, and an arrangement labelled with a surname and a hospital waits at a lobby counter until a volunteer thinks to chase it. On the Haddon Avenue campus, say which building or which door, since arriving at the wrong one costs a quarter of an hour on foot before the elevators are even in sight. As for whether flowers are permitted, this page publishes no hospital's policy, and that is deliberate: those rules are written unit by unit, two floors of one building can differ, and they are revised without notice. A single call to the nurses' station beats any list we could maintain. Ask, repeat the answer in the order notes, and the filling shop designs to it — heavy pollen left out, nothing scented, and a footprint small enough for a sill, because the tray table is already spoken for.