It is not unusual for a person facing the start of chemotherapy to become unexpectedly short-tempered, withdrawn, or cold toward the very family members caring for them. When this follows several days of being unable to eat and repeated diarrhea, the change is more often a sign that body and mind have reached their limit at the same time than a sign that affection has faded. For the person at the bedside, the first thought is usually "am I being pushed away" — but clinically, the useful first step is to separate the possible causes one by one.

The body comes first. Days of poor intake and diarrhea lead easily to dehydration and electrolyte imbalance (particularly shifts in sodium, potassium, and calcium), and that alone can make a person irritable, unfocused, and blunt in speech. Add broken sleep and emotional control becomes harder still. Anemia, a developing infection or fever, and pain that is not adequately controlled can all produce a similar picture.

Medications matter more than people expect. Steroids such as dexamethasone, given routinely alongside chemotherapy, can lift mood or, just as often, cause irritability, insomnia, and restlessness. Some anti-nausea drugs produce agitation or heavy sedation. Opioid analgesics, sleeping pills, and anti-anxiety medicines also affect daytime thinking and mood depending on dose and combination. Lining up "when did this start" against "when did the medications change" often reveals a pattern.

One condition deserves special attention: delirium. Delirium is an abrupt disturbance of thinking and attention that occurs when the brain reacts to a body-wide problem. It typically fluctuates — worse at night, clearer during the day — and may involve confusion about time and place or seeing things that are not there. Early on it can look simply like "he keeps snapping at me" or "he won't listen." If such a change appears suddenly over days, it should be reported to the medical team rather than treated as a personality issue, because reversible causes such as dehydration, infection, electrolyte abnormalities, medications, and pain are frequently behind it.

After the physical causes, the emotional ones remain. Diagnosis, surgery, and impending chemotherapy dismantle a person's usual roles and routines all at once. Being unable to keep food down and needing help with basic functions cuts deeply into dignity, and receiving care can feel humiliating rather than comforting. For people who have had little practice putting feelings into words, fear and helplessness often travel through the familiar channel of anger or silence. Behaviour that looks like deliberate emotional distancing may in fact be a clumsy attempt to spare the family, or a private way of coping with fear about what lies ahead. These are possibilities, not conclusions — only the person themselves knows, which is why a quiet moment to ask matters.

Conversations tend to work better short and concrete than long and probing. Instead of asking why someone is behaving this way, questions such as "what feels worst right now?" or "would you rather have some time alone?" return a sense of choice and carry less pressure. When emotions run high, stepping out of the room for a while is a legitimate option — withdrawing for a moment is not giving up, it protects both people.

Keeping a simple record helps a great deal. Note when the change began, what time of day it worsens, sleep, intake, bowel movements, temperature, and the dates medications changed. Sharing this on rounds or at the next clinic visit makes it far easier for the team to narrow down a cause. Most cancer centres offer more than the treating oncologist — palliative care teams, psycho-oncology or psychiatry consultation, social work, and nutrition services. Depression and anxiety are not simply things to endure; they can be assessed and treated. Caregivers are also entitled to this support.

Some situations warrant contacting the team without delay: sudden confusion or hallucinations, failure to recognise familiar people, marked drowsiness or difficulty waking, fever of 38°C or higher, a clear drop in urine output or dizziness on standing, and any expression of wanting to die or give up on life. That last one in particular should never be carried alone — ask for help.

Finally, there is no need to reproach yourself for feeling hurt after a difficult visit. Caregiving means absorbing not only another person's suffering but also the way that suffering comes out, and exhaustion is a reasonable response. Stepping outside for air and keeping someone to talk to are, in the long run, what makes it possible to stay close.

This article provides general information and does not replace individual diagnosis or treatment. Because the causes of symptoms and emotional change differ from person to person, please discuss any decisions or actions with your own medical team.