Is it just me? Or did she look at me funny? Is she mad at me? What could I have done?

Today Grandmother may come home.

I'm a little paranoid myself, but my visits to Grandmother have me really sort of worried about my own paranoia. (Can one get more self-involved? Oh well.) I've always been a little bit paranoid. When the bosses at my company all meet together and have a hushed conversation behind closed doors, I always find myself worried that the company's future or mine is tanking.

I've always told myself that the paranoia was a healthy thing. If your boss is in a bad mood, you might not be the cause, but you might be, so you better work harder and behave yourself at work.

But Grandmother, wow. Every nurse is out to hurt her. (Though once the anesthesia went away, she stopped thinking that the African-American nurses were ESPECIALLY out to get her, to our unanimous relief.) The doctors want to steal her money. We want to hurt her. It's really depressing to be around.

I'm making it a minor life goal to be less paranoid. I think it was J.D. Salinger who came up with the phrase "reverse paranoia" for the concept that everyone is secretly conspiring to make us happy. Probably a good idea to keep on one's mind, if only as an antidote.

CC