May 29 did not go as planned.

On that day, a Tuesday, I woke up with a rare case of stomach problems. A dose of Pepto-Bismol seemed to settle me down, so by 10:15 a.m. I'd driven my wife to her dental appointment on Villa Lane.

The plan was that I'd take care of some business at a nearby bank and the Trancas Street Post Office before returning to Dr. Tom Johnson's dental office to pick Jeanette up.

I'd finished my bank business, but in the always crowded post office I began to feel a bit light-headed as the lady postal clerk was explaining the new rates on the five mailers I was sending to old pals in Cooperstown, N.Y., New York City and Boynton Beach, Fla.

Suddenly my "lights went out" and there I was on my back on the post office floor, as if the great Joe Louis had caught me with a left hook I never saw coming. I was just looking up at the room's ceiling lights and two good Napa gentlemen who had come to my aid were kneeling beside me. No pain, no shortness of breath, but I'd passed out.

I tried to get up and demand a rematch, but one of the gentlemen -- who I later learned was Dr. Dan McMahon, a well-respected physician for his work at Queen of the Valley Medical Center -- suggested I lie where I was until the Queen could figure out what sent me down for a 10 count.

Dr. Dan asked me how I felt and my one word answer was "Embarrassed!" But there was much wisdom in his words, so I lay still.

Paramedics from Napa Fire Station #2 arrived and three great guys, two Mikes and a Ray, rolled me out to their nearby "meat wagon." Before I knew it I was in a hospital bed in the emergency room at the Queen, a hospital where poor souls don't have to crawl to take a number off a pegboard on the wall and wait for hours for some medical help.

Thankfully my hospital stay consisted of only two days and one night, but in those approximately 36 hours I got the royal treatment and was afforded the benefit of every cardiovascular machine known to civilized man.

The bottom-line diagnosis was that I had not suffered a heart attack, but rather had been a victim of dehydration and exhaustion and told that since I'm not a kid anymore, this was nature's way of warning me to slow down. Oh and to lay off the coffee and cigarettes, which really aren't the Breakfast of Champions.

In addition to God, I have many people to thank, so here goes.

First I thank Dr. McMahon and another Napan -- whose name I may never know -- who came to my aid at the post office.

Enter three Fire Department paramedics, great guys who Chief Tim Borman, another fine man who I do know, identified as Ray Fields, Mike Fridolfs and Mike Dombrowski. They handled me with kid gloves and talked me out of my idea of driving home when I was having second thoughts.

Thanks to my firemen friends, my wife was notified of the situation and where I'd parked the car. Although receptionist Lettie Salvidar at Dr. Johnson's office volunteered to drive Jeanette to the car, a gentleman at the office waiting for his daughter handled that big favor. It turned out that the man was Vallejo Police Sgt. Vic Massenkoff, assigned to his department's Internal Affairs Division -- the dreaded IAD. But in my book, Vic is an OK guy.

At Queen of the Valley the people I want to thank are legion and let's start in the emergency room. Nurses Michelle Monroe, Justine Gibb and Tony Ruiz and so many others whose names escape me now were led by Dr. Rick Bernini. All of them handled me with skill and kindness. They were and are professionals to the core. Tony Ruiz, by the way, was my grandson Robbie's first T-Ball coach so his good work is spread all around this town.

Then there was Bob Jackson, the night nurse/technician from Ontario, Canada, who monitored the gadgets I was hooked up to all through the night. Then of course there are the doctors, more than I'd ever seen and spoken to in any one hospital in my life.

I'd been to hospitals on police cases many times, but only twice as a patient. Once for a stitch job and another for an ulnar bone injury, but never lost a day on duty. I talked my way out of those situations, but not this time.

Beginning with Dr. Berini, I was then visited by doctors James Srebro, Sergio Manubens, Else Jensen and Abhijit Adhye, and I thank them all for what they did to help me. It was obvious that I'd come to the right place.

On that second day, before I got the green light to go home, I was rolled down to the lower chambers of the hospital by nurse/technician Dan Lyle, who explained every cardiovascular test I'd be taking, ending up with a cardiolyte stress test and an echocardiagram for good measure. Dan treated me like a brother.

I also want to thank nurses Traci Snyder and Karen Bullwinkle in cardiology and Christa Riegel, who had me sign my release (eagerly!).

But before I end this story I have to report a happening right out of the Bob Newhart book of comedy sketches. You can't make these sketches up, you have to experience them to write them.

There I was flat on my back on the post office floor, Dr. McMahon kneeling at my side, when a lady who I guess was acting as a courier for the post clerk bent down to tell me I owed the U.S. Post Office $10.05. With all my strength I lifted my torso up, retrieved my wallet in my back pocket and somehow pulled out a $10 bill. But my ordeal wasn't over yet as the woman said, "And five cents!"

Somehow I twisted my body to the left and out of my right side pocket extracted a quarter and gave the coin to her.

The paramedics had arrived and as they were wheeling me out the building that same lady said, "But they owe you 20 cents!"

To that I replied "Ferrged aboud it, lady" and off we went.

If you think the N.Y.P.D. and the F.D.N.Y. are tough, try the US Postal Service some time. That outfit really believes that "Rules is rules."

Lastly I thank Dante Allen, executive director of Queen's public relations department, and his kind associate Lia Kuchta, for filling in the names of many of the professionals who helped me through some scary moments.

Finally and well-deserved -- "Long live the Queen!"

Parker can be reached at evjenpar@mailbug.com or 224-9956