Steely guts, determination and a flip disregard for the manufacturer’s warrantee. I gird myself against the real possibility that I’d kill what has become a dear friend and companion: my iPod.

I push the flat plastic pick between its seam, and begin the process of harping it open to replace the battery. It’s harder than it looks on the instructional video I found online. I think that stems from the nagging feeling that you’re tearing apart a valuable device. It gives you a knot in your stomach through the entire surgery.

Once open, the iPod loses a bit of mystique. It’s just a laptop hard drive. I knew that all along, but daily use for almost three years had bolstered it into much more.

I gently pry the hard drive from its seat on the iPod’s tiny mother board and set it aside. Deep breath, and on to step two. I pull the battery’s plug and gingerly work the wires from their secure position. Deep breath. I push the new battery’s plug in, seat it and start putting it all back together.

Two deep breaths. Snap, snap, as I force the metal panel back on to the upturned face of the device. Then I turn it over, and click the power button. Nothing. What went wrong? I curse myself for 10 panicky seconds before realizing the new battery, of course, doesn’t come charged.

Exhale. I plug it in and that familiar grey apple appears. Exhale again. This patient’s going to make it.

The surgery isn’t without it’s pitfalls. Afterward, my iPod developed the electronic equivalent of a heart murmur: a slight rattle. Still, it’s nothing that a follow-up operation and a strip of foam tape can’t solve. That’s a small price to pay for a new lease on a little electronic life.