Paul was with me in the charter medical school class for Wright State University and we graduated in 1980.  There were just 31 of us who graduated in the first class.  We all love Paul and his wit.  He memoralized our class with his black and white photos.  He had a wonderful wit and was a lot of fun.  I am so sorry about his passing.
Samia (Warwar) Borchers MD

I was so saddened to hear about Paul's death.  I knew he had been ill, but did not know it was so advanced.  I fondly remember the days of growing up with Paul and his brother and sisters.  His sister, Mary, has remained very close to me as we became friends in first grade and have continued to keep up our friendship for nearly 50 years.  I remember Paul as the little brother who followed us around as we played at each other's houses and around the neighborhood.  We always had fun together and Paul and Robert just joined in as we played every childhood game, rode bikes, ran after the "popcicle man" and generally had the idyllic growing up playing experience.  I remember, so vividly, when Carolyn was born and Paul didn't think he would like the idea of having a baby sister.  After all, he was the "baby"!  
     My heart goes out to your family as you grieve Paul's passing and please know that you will all be in my prayers. Love, Suzie (Smith) Dickinson

I loved working with Dr. Perkins!  He just 'got it' in our small rural community-and not just the patients, but his co-workers, too.  We had a common interest in photography (my first degree was a BFA in photography and ceramics) and he loved to be the devil's advocate whether it was critiquing art or literature.  He made me feel still human in the midst of ER mayhem.  He also diagnosed my heart problem 5 years before the specialists were finally willing to admit I had one, just from my description of my symptoms and sensations.  He was brilliant-literally and figuratively!  Safe flight, my friend...you will be missed.

Dr. Perkins was one of the most unique individuals I have ever met! he worked at our hospital for awhile and the first couple of times there we were not sure what to think of his humor! he was a man of intellect and I remember he worked when he was so ill himself - often times he felt worse than the patients he was treating. He will always live in my memory as our "amish doctor" - I would like to send my deepest condolences to his family.

I met him at the University of Colorado, Boulder in 1971.  The guys in the dorm called him Creach, because of his uproarious comments during what was called Creature Features, a late night program that showed the worst of 1950s science fiction and horror films on Friday and Saturday nights.  He could never find his keys.  In the finite space of a dorm room he would lose his keys.  Then followed a string of expletives until, finally, the keys were recovered from somewhere.  

What drew me to Paul was his humor, wit, intelligence and a refusal to suffer fools and idiots.  If there was something to parody or find humor, in almost any situation, we ended up laughing and at our own foibles as well.  I mean, pull off the road because it’s too dangerous to continue driving because we were laughing so hard. 
 
He always called me Kincaide, never by my first name, Norman or my middle name Louis or Louie as my family calls me.  So it was always: "Hey, Kincaide, why don't come out for the Antioch Writer's Workshop this summer."  I finally took up his challenge to do that in 1998 and again in 1999.  He recognized a talent in me that would benefit from that workshop. 
 
 Paul got to know the Kincaide ranching family in southeastern Colorado during spring break and for at least one Thanksgiving.  On a windy, cold, muddy, snowy day in March 1973 he helped herd cattle so my Dad could cut out a first calf heifer and herd her up to the calving shed.  He didn't complain about the cold and the mud.  He just knew my Dad needed our help.  We helped my Dad pull the calf.  We came in from the cold and snow and mud to see a news story about a woman complaining about the price of beef.
   
"That stupid woman doesn't know what she's talking about."  Paul exclaimed.
 
We had different parallax views through the camera lens.  I came to photography late, but embraced it largely because of Paul's work in the dark room at the University of Colorado.

On one trip to Colorado, I think it was in 1987, Paul went camping and fishing with me and my wife.  Our first camp site was Big Creek Lake at about 8000 feet in elevation in Routt National Forest near Walden, CO.  I noticed that Paul wasn’t drinking water or soda.  I told him.
“Paul, you need to drink more fluids at this altitude.”
“I’m okay.”
At lunch he still didn’t drink much water or soda or gatorade.
“Paul, you really need to drink more water or you’re going to get dehydrated.”
“I’m okay.”
“Okay.”
Pretty close to supper time.
“Oh, Kincaide, I’ve got a screaming headache!”
“I told you.  I told you.  Here’s some ibuprofen.  And drink more water.  If you’re not passing urine, you’re dehydrating, Doctor Paul.”

I think it was on that trip at another camp site at Hermit Lake near Westcliff in Custer County, CO, he caught a 12 inch cutthroat trout on a fly.  Although I had lived in Colorado my whole life, I had never seen a cutthroat trout.  It was the most beautiful fish I had ever seen.  It was a good thing my wife was a vegetarian, because Paul and I split that fish right down the middle.  That was the best trout I ever had.  He was a much more patient fisherman than I was, and he was a fly fisherman.

During one of my research trips to Pennsylvania when I stopped by to see him, I asked how he dealt with what happened in the ER.

“You have to wait until the end of the shift to deal with and process what happened.”
There were episodes though that really bothered him.
“They brought in this Amish boy. He fell from a hay loft onto a pitch fork.  It pierced his aorta.  I couldn’t do a thing, Kincaide.  You pierce the aorta and you’re done.  There wasn’t a thing I could do.”
“I know, Paul.”
“But the 38-year old guy who collapsed outside the doors of the ER, we got to him in time.  We defibrillated him, brought him back.”
“Good job, Paul.” 
 
I was so glad he came to visit in August and we drove around southeastern Colorado to photograph the 20th century relics left on the prairie.  I cooked hamburgers when we got back to my house.  

"Kincaide, you cook the best hamburgers."  

My pleasure, Paul.  It pained m

OBITUARY

Paul C. Perkins

March 27, 1952 – January 10, 2010

Schoedinger Midtown

Show your support

Add a Memory

Share Obituary

Get Reminders

Services