She cured my whiplash injury when I didn't get satisfactor results through my doctor, a specialist and physical therapy. I live in Costa Rica and must return to her every six months for treatment or the pain returns. She is very personable and I consider her as a friend as well as a very competent healer. J.A.

My bad rating is for (Dr. Angela)Wu's Healing center on Clement. Angela is wonderful, and has an impressive success record with her fertility treatment. Before you can get an appointment though, you may be put off (literally) by a rigid receptionist (Leila), who tells you to listen to the erratically functioning and unuseful phone menu, as well as study the web site, rather than take her time talking; she's equally unapproachable and coarse in person. When I asked, after four such interaction, if I could direct any communications to others who work the desk part-time, the orientation person said it would not be fair to take their time. Don't expect any consideration for newbies. On my second visit, I was led to a tiny, dark cubicle, with the only instruction being that there were hooks where I could hang my bag and jacket. Was I supposed to undress, or was someone actually going to come and speak to me? Was there a certain direction I should lay on the table? The only stool was crammed in the corner amist a tangle of multiple heat lamp legs and wires. A brusk check-in person did arrive with an opener of Where are we? I was supposed to have understood that he wanted to know how many days I was into my cycle. By the time this guy left I was frustrated to tears. When the organ massager (Tiffany, who is the only warm, personable technician) came, I told her it seemed like everyone was too busy and seemed to forget that their work was about the patient's well being. The next guy, who did a meridian massage, was technically good and made an effort to communicate; it would have been nice if he had warmed his hands right away and given me some warning before whipping the sheet down off my back. During this session, I asked about a crackling sound and if he had pre-lit moxa. It turned out that the extremely strong odor, which I had previously thought must have been coming from outside my cubicle, was actually a stick that had negligently been left burning since a previous patient's session (over two hours earlier?); he choked and complained a few times after that, whereas I had been in there with the whole time with the door closed. Dr. Wu, who is very nice and obviously gifted came for the acupuncture. When I pressed her with a couple of my specfic treatment plan concerns, she was attentive and responsive, only I noticed that her face was damp with perspiration. Why all the heated rush about this place? As she was leaving, she said someone would come to do the moxa. The last fellow arrives by clomping into the room, wordless, and tossing something onto my exposed. I kept my eyes closed, to hear him dropping some canister in the corner. He does whatever he does over my abdominal needles, and stands off above my shoulder. I smell something and open eyes, turning my head slightly to see who this mute klutz might be. In response, he chuckles! What a freak! Then he walks to my side, where I can see him, looks me in the eye, and says, What? When I just stare at him, in shock, he says, I'm doing your moxa. I know, I said, even though I wasn't clear on what he was doing. I guessed, Is it attached to the needles? Yes. After he finished, he cleared his wires, I think, and clomped out of the room without another word. The meridan massage guy came back to remove the needles and asked me if it felt like he missed any. While I'm sure he meant well, I just thought the whole scene was pathetically comical. He left, and I figured that must be the end, so I got dressed. At the payment counter, the orientation person asked me if I needed any herbs. I responded, Do I? Excused me, but am I supposed to know what the treatment plan is for me when no one bothers to talk to me about it? Anyway, freak boy was the deciding factor. To begin with I feel vulnerable seeking fertility treatment. Being treated like a chassis rolling down a coveyor belt of an auto factory is not my idea of a healing, holistic experience. While I like Angela very much, her staff seems like young interns who have been taught nothing about bedside manner. And for that, the cost is at least $100 per hour, with two-to-three-hour weekly sessions prescribed. (The receptionist never explained that before I came in.) All this rough treatment does not seem conducive to conception, and I'll wager that others can help without such indignities.