On Roommate Boundaries and Social Obligations

Usually, unless I myself am making noise with the TV or some music, my apartment is almost dead quiet. I have an apartment mate, but 99% of the time he is so quiet in his room that I don't even know he's there until he comes out to use the bathroom or grab a snack or whatever.

So when out of no where there's this huge crash just outside my door, I nearly jumped out of my chair. I have a bead curtain that I've carted around from place to place for the past ten years. Given how much it rattled against my door, and the shear spike in decibels, I assumed that a string had broke or something.

When I went over to investigate, I couldn't open my door. It wasn't locked, but the knob refused to turn. In what I'm sure was primarily a state of sleep-deprived confusion (I haven't been getting much quality sleep lately) I stared at the knob in an uncomprehending stupor for a few seconds before twisting and untwisting the lock. It was still somewhat stuck, but I managed to open the door.

On the other side was my roommate, on the floor, nearly tangled in my bead curtain like it had attacked him and thrown him to the ground.

Me: O_o;?? "...are you okay?"

Roommate: "Yeah, uh...I have allergies. I must've fell."

Me: "...oh...kay..."

At this point he rose shakily to his feet, reminiscent of a new-born colt standing for the first time.

Me: "Are you sure you're okay?"

Roommate: "Yeah. Fine. I think I should sleep."

Me: "Maybe you should."

Now, what I think he meant to say was that he was on some kind of super-strength allergy medication. From all outward appearances, he looked drunk. I don't know what he took, but it must've been like the Rambo/Terminator/Robocop/Son of Sam/"BLAAARG HISTAMINE! I WILL OWN YOU!" variety of allergy medication, because I've never seen anyone react like that.

I'm actually somewhat worried that maybe he hit his head and got a concussion, because he didn't move until I opened the door. I spent quite a bit of time responding to the beaded cacophony, and staring at my door knob on strike in an uncomprehending stupor too. Of course, being me, I'm not sure if I should go try to wake him up and see if he's okay or not, so I'm debating doing anything. This leaves the situation with, in my head, only two outcomes.

1. He's fine, other than being doped up on Claritin, and fast asleep. I'll go bang on the door like an angry landlord until he answers, alive enough but pissed that I woke him up. Yay me.
2. He's suffering from a moderate head injury, and won't come to the door. I kick it in, check his vitals, rush him to the hospital, and save his life. I'm a hero. Yay me!

Granted, the awesome that is the hero potentiality is much farther up the positive scale than him being pissed at me is on the negative scale (like, +1,000,000 vs –maybe 100-375), but the fact that there is a possible negative outcome at all is keeping me in my seat. Especially given that this happened over an hour ago. It's like: "It didn't occur to you that I might be dying until just now? Thanks. Thanks a lot. ...jerk."

It doesn't help that I barely know him. Over the course of the year that we've lived in this apartment, I'm pretty sure that we've said less than 1,000 words to each other, total. I know maybe 7 distinct facts about him. It's an effectively, albeit functionally, neutral relationship, thus I have absolutely no basis by which I could determine what he'd want me to do in this situation. If it wasn't for the fact that I'm his apartment mate and therefore somewhat obligated to do something if he were dying, I wouldn't be in a dilemma. Mostly, I think it's just that I'd feel utterly horrible if he was dead tomorrow, and I didn't do a thing about it.

But there's still that possibility that he's (mostly) fine, right? It could've just been the medication, and not necessarily a concussion, that made him wobble like a lush. That stuff messes you up.

Roommate's alive! And not pissed at me! He seemed fine. Groggy and tired yes, but not concussed and in need of a drama-filled heroic rush to the ER. I'm glad I manned-up and knocked. That kind of stuff can make me nervous and indecisive to the point of paralysis. The fact that I kept at it through the churning acid is proof of personal progress.

Yay me!