When you walk in the corner entrance to the new lobby at Methodist, you see a bunch of plants going around in the revolving door. At first I thought someone left their plants there, then I realized that the plants are supposed to be there, encased in a special compartment that can't be shared. It's absurd and amusing, would definitely cheer me up if I were being brought in for a minor procedure of some kind although I wouldn't want the cost of that amusement added to my bill.
My daughter's intake nurse in the ER was Dionisia Lancelot, a name I find hard to forget. Like everyone we encountered there, she was very kind and competent. The doctor that examined my daughter's arm, Christopher Kelly, really likes kids. My daughter broke a smile in spite of her discomfort when we heard him cooing back and forth with an injured baby hidden from our view by a partition. Nice man, good doctor, TV handsome.
My daughter's arm wasn't fractured, or so the x-rays indicated at this point. But I understand some fractures are so fine they don't show up until the bone starts to heal.
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