Know which building you are sending to, because Augusta has six distinct medical addresses and they are not interchangeable. Wellstar MCG Health Medical Center on the 15th Street campus — the hospital half the city still calls AU Medical Center or simply MCG — handles trauma, transplant, cardiac and complex inpatient care. The Children's Hospital of Georgia on Harper Street, next door on the same campus, is the region's pediatric hospital with its own NICU and pediatric oncology service. The Georgia Cancer Center on Laney Walker Boulevard is the outpatient and infusion side of the same complex. Piedmont Augusta — the Walton Way hospital generations of people here know as University, plus its Wrightsboro Road campus — is the other major system in town, and the one nearest Summerville. Doctors Hospital of Augusta on Wheeler Road is out on the west side closest to both of our benches, and it houses the Joseph M. Still Burn Center, one of the largest burn centers in the country, which takes patients from several states. The Charlie Norwood VA Medical Center runs two divisions — Uptown on Wrightsboro Road and Downtown on 15th Street — with long-term care and rehabilitation units as well as acute beds. Encompass Health Rehabilitation Hospital of Augusta takes stroke and orthopedic recovery, and East Central Regional Hospital in Gracewood is the state facility south of town with the strictest unit rules of any address on this list. Put the building name on the order, not just the word hospital.
The floor rules are where most get-well orders go wrong, and they are not arbitrary. Intensive care units across Augusta generally do not allow fresh flowers or plants at the bedside — the concern is airborne mold spores and standing water around immunocompromised, ventilated patients. Burn units are the strictest of all: the Joseph M. Still center runs an environment where flowers and soil are not coming into the patient area, full stop, and a piece sent there is a piece sent to the waiting family. Oncology and bone-marrow transplant floors, including the inpatient services tied to the Georgia Cancer Center, restrict fresh flowers and refuse potted plants outright, because soil carries fungal spores that a neutropenic patient cannot tolerate; where flowers are permitted at all, they must be lily-free, pollen-light and unscented. NICU and pediatric intensive care at the Children's Hospital of Georgia do not take flowers into the unit. Psychiatric and behavioral units, at East Central Regional and elsewhere, refuse glass vases, wire, ribbon and plastic wrap as a matter of patient safety. And most floors in this city are mylar-only on balloons because of latex allergy protocols. None of this means do not send anything — it means send the right thing, and when the unit will not take it, the studio routes the arrangement to the family waiting room or to the home instead, which is frequently where it does more good anyway.
What a compliant Augusta get-well arrangement actually looks like: no lilies of any kind, including the stargazers and orientals that dominate the wholesale market — they are the single most common reason an arrangement is turned back at a nurses' station, both for the scent and for the pollen. No heavy fragrance, no eucalyptus-forward foliage, no hyacinth or freesia in a shared room. Pollen-light material instead: spray roses, alstroemeria, carnation and mini-carnation, chrysanthemum, gerbera with the pollen managed, statice, solidago, waxflower and hardy greens. Small footprint — hospital tray tables and window ledges in the 15th Street towers are narrow and already carry a water jug, a phone and a chart, so a compact arrangement in a low, stable vessel survives the stay and a tall vase does not. And nothing that requires the patient to do anything: a wrapped hand-tied is a lovely gift for a kitchen and a burden for someone on an IV line, so hospital work goes in a container with water already in it. There is one Augusta-specific reason to be extra careful about pollen: from late February into April this region is buried in pine pollen to a degree that visitors find hard to believe, and patients with any respiratory involvement are already having a difficult spring before a bouquet enters the room.