I recently spent some time in a hospital. (I keep typing 'hostipal'.) Since I wasn't the patient, I took the opportunity to explore the grounds.
I tried to go for a walk. But the parking lot was for cars, not people. The autumn trees were meant to be seen through glass. Inside, there was an attractive lobby with stone and tile and earthy patterns. But the only evidence of plant life were the photos on the walls. Closeups of leaves and water droplets, all behind glass.
I did find some real plants in the cafeteria, safely quarantined in large metal bowls.
In my brief time in the hospital universe, I sensed that plants were not only irrelevant but slightly dangerous. The hospital was all about the suspicion of organic life. It was very clean and full of busy, well-meaning people, wearing over-laundered uniforms and carrying medical doodads. Bright, hard, shiny, sterile, blinking, clicking, beeping, metal and plastic. Hospital. Hostipal. Hostile.