Start with the building, because in Yonkers that is where get-well orders go wrong. There are two hospital systems inside the city and one of them has two campuses on the same street with different names. St. John's Riverside Hospital runs the Andrus Pavilion at 967 North Broadway and the ParkCare Pavilion at 2 Park Avenue, roughly at opposite ends of the city's spine, plus a third campus down the river in Dobbs Ferry. Saint Joseph's Medical Center is a separate hospital altogether at 127 South Broadway. So when a relative tells you somebody is at St. John's, or at the hospital on Broadway, that is not yet an address — North Broadway and South Broadway are two different hospitals belonging to two different systems, and a delivery sent to the wrong one is a delivery that does not arrive. One phone call to whoever gave you the news fixes it. Ask for the hospital's full name, the pavilion or campus, and the unit or floor as the hospital itself says it, because front desks route by unit rather than by patient.
Once the building is right, the unit decides what you are allowed to send, and none of these restrictions are fussiness — they are clinical. Anyone mid-chemotherapy, post-transplant or otherwise immunosuppressed cannot be in a room with potting soil, because the medium carries fungal spores their body has no answer for, so oncology and infusion floors will accept cut stems and send a potted plant back downstairs. Fragrance is a symptom problem on the same floors, where nausea is already the patient's baseline, which makes lilies the single worst choice available: heavily scented, pollen-shedding and staining. Intensive care is a different constraint, physical rather than immunological — the space around a critical-care bed is fully claimed by equipment, and some cardiac and intensive rooms take nothing at all. Behavioral health units decline glass, wire and long ribbon as a safety measure, and most hospitals refuse latex balloons over allergy risk. Neonatal intensive care takes nothing floral anywhere in this country. All of that reduces to one question worth asking before you spend a dollar: what is the unit called. Then keep the thing short, dense, unscented, lily-free and light enough for a nurse to move with one hand.
The regional map matters because Yonkers refers outward in every direction and the 18-mile radius happens to cover nearly all of it. NewYork-Presbyterian Lawrence Hospital is on Palmer Avenue in Bronxville, minutes from the city's eastern neighborhoods. Montefiore Mount Vernon sits just over the southern line and Montefiore New Rochelle a few miles east on Guion Place. White Plains Hospital is the main up-county community hospital, and Westchester Medical Center in Valhalla is the region's tertiary referral and trauma center, with Maria Fareri Children's Hospital on the same campus — which is where the serious pediatric admissions from this city go. Burke Rehabilitation in White Plains handles the neurological and orthopedic rehabilitation work. South of the line, the Bronx Montefiore campuses, the Children's Hospital at Montefiore and Calvary Hospital, the region's specialist palliative hospital, are all a short drive from southeast Yonkers. Phelps up in Sleepy Hollow serves the river towns. Two practical notes for the longer legs: commercial vehicles are barred from the Bronx River, Saw Mill River, Cross County and Sprain Brook parkways, so a marked van running to Valhalla or White Plains takes the Thruway or Central Park Avenue and the trip is longer than the mileage suggests; and for any hospital outside the city, order a day ahead rather than at the cutoff.
Most get-well flowers in this city never see a hospital at all, and planning for that produces a better gift. A scope, a cataract, an infusion, a same-day orthopedic procedure all start and finish inside a morning, and the recovery address is a house — which means no unit rules, no size ceiling, no objection to a potted plant, and an arrangement that is still on the table in week three when the visits have tapered off. Yonkers houses do impose their own geography, though. The pre-war buildings and two- and three-family houses of Getty Square, Nodine Hill, Park Hill and the Ludlow blocks sit on genuinely steep streets, with buzzer panels, shared vestibules and upper entrances a driver cannot see from the curb, so the apartment number and the floor belong on the order. Crestwood, Colonial Heights, Beech Hill, Homefield, Lawrence Park West, Dunwoodie and the streets above Tuckahoe Road are driveway deliveries and much easier. Everywhere, add a mobile number: a person recovering from surgery may not get to a door quickly, and between November and March nothing cut survives an hour on a step.