She had barely left my intensive care unit room when I felt myself once again out of breath as my chest tightened. My heart was racing almost as fast as the monitor to which I was hooked up. 'Code Blue' came on the intercom and within seconds what seemed to have been a dozen doctors and nurses were over me. Veronica, the nurse in charge of my care that first night, held my left hand. "My daughter," I said and she looked up as if to try and stop Jess. "No," I said. "Don't call her back, I promised her I wasn't leaving her yet, please just help me to keep my promise."

I was given an IV with a large syringe, then I heard what sounded like whistles and shortly thereafter I was out.

I woke up later that first Tuesday morning at Miami University Hospital, my heart in bad condition after suffering a heart attack two weeks prior, in Jamaica. I was suffering from a genetic heart condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, which is basically an enlarging and thickening of the heart muscle, accompanied with arrhythmia (palpitations).This disease is also referred to as 'sudden death'. I have been on medication since 1997 being conscious of the fact that one day, I may need a new heart.

The surgeon who did the cardiac catheterisation on me the previous Monday, after finding no blocks in the main arteries, recommended I put in a pacemaker/defibrillator, or I probably could not leave the hospital. This device was to be implanted just below the left collar bone. It would pace my heart out of any slow or irregular beats and also deliver a strong shock in the case of any serious arrhythmia. This implant was done at great speed that same Tuesday afternoon and thanks to modern technology, amazingly, I was awake through it all. Just before being wheeled in to do the implant, Jessica said to me softly: "Daddy, they say you have a bad heart, but you have the best heart of anyone I know."

Tears welled up in our eyes. "You are the best part of me," I replied.

Focusing on school

Jessica stayed with me that week resulting in her missing three days of school. "Dad, I couldn't focus on school anyway with you in here," she said. She was worried about leaving me and I was worried about her driving too much. I managed to convince her to go to work so she did her three evening shifts that week. She works part-time as a cashier/waitress in a popular Mexican restaurant. She brought me breakfast, lunch and dinner when she could. We had many conversations. Everytime I was leaving her to do a procedure, I would say to her "I will be back. I promise." Whenever she was leaving me at nights, we looked at each other and I knew what she was thinking. So I would console her, reassuringly promising her "I will be here in the morning, I promise."

A combination of aggressive new drugs and my pacemaker allowed me to be discharged from hospital Saturday afternoon. I headed straight to the restaurant where Jessica works. She smiled when she saw me. Nothing needed to be said.

I spent the next week recuperating, Jessica watching me and everything I ate. She refused to even let me drive. I wondered if I deserved such a wonderful daughter, and marvelled at her just as a human being. I broke a promise to her 14 years ago and left. I kept my promise this time.

"You truly are the best part of me."

- Dad, Ameen Shoucair