Remember the thrilling game of "Operation" that aimed to extract vital innards from a bright-red-lightbulb-nose man without killing him?

That’s basically what I felt like last week as I underwent my very first surgery (unless you count the nurse back in high school who tried to get an embedded pencil out of my leg). Actually, I lie -- I didn’t really feel like that bulb-nosed man. In fact, I didn’t really feel anything at all since they knocked me out, not even needing a count of ten. And it went a little smoother than the "pencil" procedure, being that the nurse’s answer had been to snap the pencil in half, leaving two-thirds of a graphite chunk merrily sticking out of my calf.

My very first "non-pencilular" procedure was a standard, run-of-the-mill occurrence that people get done every day. My doctor was a well-reputed chap who outlined every stage of the half-hour surgery and what to do afterward. It was safe, virtually risk-free and I would get to go home about two hours afterward.

So why was I so terrified?

As I have examined and been consumed by fear in the past, I simply chose the distraction method to deal with it this time around. Instead of thinking about the pending surgery, I spent at least a week prior to the date obsessing about shoes. Not just any shoes, mind you, but thongs -- flip flops. I ended up with six pairs of the things -- in a wide array of colors and styles -- from five different stores. Two of them give me blisters, one is way too short for my feet and the other three are real winners (except for the pair I have yet to wear but decided I do not like).

So if you are easily amused by shoes, the lead-up to "the day" was simple. Surprisingly, so was the actual surgery. In fact, I was in such a wonderful mood following the procedure, I had quickly jotted down all my glorious thoughts concerning the event. "Pah-pah" to fear, "Ta ta" to anguish and "So long" to misery.

DAY ONE’s list of fine points included: Anesthesia did not freak me out like it did with wisdom teeth (I forgot why teeth extractions do not count as "surgery" but they don’t). They let me sleep afterwards, unlike wisdom teeth day where they woke me up and shuffled me out the door in five minutes, causing me to not remember even how I got home. Was given extra coffee after the procedure to make up for totally empty stomach since midnight the night before.

Not that the day did not include some sour points. No food or drink for 206 hours prior to surgery. Friend who was supposed to pick me up thought hospital was in Manhattan, not Brooklyn, and ended up 206 miles away while I waited for 206 years for her to come.

But the bottom line for DAY ONE was, besides the fact that everything involved the number 206, the total lack of pain. What a blessing!

Then DAY TWO came. This was where I woke up at four a.m. (today) so if this column makes little to no sense, please do forgive me. I am currently on my (I think?) fourth Extra Strength Tylenol (which is about the strongest medication I feel like taking) and it seems to be doing its job. Although I awoke in massive pain, it has since subsided and I have already been to the park, the fruit store on Ft. Hamilton and the bank. Even though I practice meditation, I have trouble sitting still. Perhaps when the Tylenol starts wearing off, I won’t be as quick to jaunt down the block for a replacement bulb in my refrigerator (yes, I also cleaned the fridge).