It's the picture you try to get out of your head. It's the moment that I wish my husband was here to comfort me, but he's not. My dad tried to attack me today. He's in a rehab center, having just had cancer surgery. He's also been diagnosed with dementia, but it's in the early stages. Therefore, I can't think that his attack of me was because of that. Add to it, he has always had a violent temper that been turned on others including my mother and in recent years me. Still, he's in a rehab center, plenty of people around. I felt safe. I was wrong and things could have turned out much worse because of my error.

Backstory: A few days ago I told him that the doctor said he would need 24/7 care due to his potential of falling and memory problems. I wanted to wait before I told him, but as they'd planned to discharge him from rehab this Monday, I didn't think I had a choice.

He seemed to take the news well. But then the next day he was upset. I can understand that as he really wanted to come home. I made it clear that if he continues to improve, the doctor may change his diagnoses. I was calm and tried my best to get him through this. Then dad had a return to his former , true self. I'd expected it which is the reason I will not move in the house with him. He is actually a dangerous man. I did know he'd been acting nice, but hadn't expected that I was in danger as long as I was in public. So today I visited him. He was smiling, introducing me to people(he was in the lounge when I got there), and seemed pretty normal, although I could see he was angry in spite of the smiles. He asked to go to a private location, not his room as he has a roomate. There's another lounge down the hall from his room, so I said okay and we walked there. He was using his walker, moving very slowly.

On the way there, he talked about how he was coming home whether I liked it or not. I reiterated that I had no problems with his coming home and that it was the doctor who said this was not possible. I told him he should speak with his doctor. Then I asked to change the subject, that nothing could be done right now since it was Sunday. He refused to change the subject, continuing on, telling me what I better do, his hands clinched tight on the walker. Had we been at home, I probably would have moved away from him. But we were walking down the hall. He's 87, just had surgery, can barely walk, I thought.

We got to the lounge and were the only ones there. We both sat down in chairs. I usually move mine closer to him as I have problems hearing. But this time I didn't do it. I started showing him videos of his dog. The little fellow is staying with me and it always lifts his spirits to see him. This time it didn't work. He started arguing with me, telling me what I had to do, saying that no doctor or anyone else could stop him from coming home. His eyes were wild--the eyes he had when he would be my mother over forty years ago.

I got up, told him I was going home. I made my way to the nurses station and told them I was leaving and that dad was in the lounge. This is customary so the nurses know to get him. I explained that he was upset and that's why I was leaving. As I was speaking, I saw a blur that would have been almost comical if it hadn't been so scary. He was moving fast, coming straight towards me, shouting that I was a liar and other things I couldn't make out. I was in shock, standing there for a moment, watching everything in slow motion--the nurses coming around when he flung his walker and started for me. I think there were 4 of them, but things are a blur, like an accident you can't quite recall.

I started walking away, not looking back as they surrounded him. I don't know what happened after that. I just know that the father I prayed for, sat by the bed as he recovered, wanted me dead. I saw that with instant clarity.

Did I know that he hated me that much? Yes. For no reason because I've never done anything to him and his own relatives have told me that they would leave if he'd done half the stuff he'd done to me. Still, I stayed as a testament to my devotion to God, yes, but mostly because he is mentally ill and I have a hard time walking away from anyone who is sick.

But I won't live with him under any circumstances. I've told his doctor that, i've told the rehab center, I've told his relatives and friends. To do so means death for me because I know at some point he'll get his gun, or the knives he's hidden and kill me. Then he'll still be sick, still alone, and I'll be dead.

Thanks everyone for giving me a place to come and talk this through.