When Children Panic Panic is not attached to the memory of troublesome times, like surgical tape sticks to the skin. Analyst ask you to lay down and close your eyes, but your thoughts drain and you can’t remember if anyone took the bandages off your mother before she was put in the coffin. (Was she buried with the catheter strapping?) Grandmother would say: “Men have a long tube, it’s for burying seeds.” I would ask why some fruit never fell from the tree, they rotted on the branch, as if resisting the imagination, and open doors. “They need to be picked,” was all she’d say.