Get-well sending in Columbus is simpler than in almost any city we write about, for one reason: Bartholomew County has exactly one hospital. Columbus Regional Hospital on East 17th Street — the Robert A. M. Stern building finished in 1992, and the anchor of Columbus Regional Health — is where essentially every local inpatient stay happens, so you are never guessing which campus the patient is at. All you need is the unit and the room. That matters more than it sounds, because the hospital will not search a census for you by first name, and it cannot confirm a patient is even in the building if they have opted out of the facility directory. Ask the family for three things before you order: the patient's full name as the hospital has it, the unit, and the room number. If you can only get two of the three, send to the house instead. Columbus Regional is also the hospital the town nearly lost — Haw Creek put water through it in the June 2008 flood, patients were evacuated, and it stayed closed for months before reopening later that year. Locally that is still a reference point, and it is part of why deliveries here are treated with a certain seriousness at the front desk.
What can go into a room depends on the unit, and the rules are worth knowing before you pick a design rather than after. Ask for the arrangement to be built lily-free as a default. Lilies are the most-refused flower in any cancer-care or infusion setting, the pollen stains everything it touches, the scent carries down a corridor, and the stems are toxic to cats if the arrangement goes home with the family at discharge. Keep it low-pollen and fragrance-light for anyone in treatment. Intensive care in Columbus, as in most hospitals, generally does not take flowers into the room at all — if the patient is in critical care, the working route is a handoff to a family member in the lobby or a delivery to the house where the family is staying, and the shop will do either without complaint if you flag it. Post-surgical and maternity floors are the easy end: they take nearly anything. Whatever the unit, keep the vessel low and unbreakable so it fits a rolling tray table without being moved twice, and keep the footprint small, because a hospital room has one flat surface that is not already occupied by equipment.
This is a manufacturing town, and that changes who the get-well recipient usually is. Between the Cummins engine work, Toyota Industrial Equipment Manufacturing, NTN Driveshaft, Enkei America, the Faurecia plant and Dorel Juvenile Group, a large share of the working population spends the day on a production floor, and a large share of the get-well orders we see in 47201 and 47203 are for somebody home from a shift-floor injury or a procedure with a short hospital stay attached. Those recoveries happen at home, not in a room, and home is the better target for flowers by a wide margin: no floor policy, no visiting hours, no room number to get wrong, and the recipient gets to keep the vessel. It also means the arrangement can be fuller and scented if they like scent. Recovery addresses cluster where the workforce lives: the Tipton Lakes side of the river, the apartment blocks off 25th Street, the older streets between Central Avenue and the hospital itself, Garden City, and then a long tail of county addresses — Waymansville, Ogilville, Grammer, Newbern, Jonesville — where the run ends in a gravel drive rather than at a doorbell. Every one of those wants a mobile number on the order. Somebody recovering sleeps through half the afternoon and will not hear a knock, and cut flowers left on a step in a southern Indiana February are finished inside the hour.