Diverticulitis - Real Advice from a Sufferer

Let me introduce you to the most annoying part of my digestive system. No, it’s not that weird noise it makes during Zoom meetings (see last post) — it’s my diverticula. Those pesky little pouches lining the walls of my colon, like tiny, inflamed Airbnb rentals, always ready to overstay their welcome. If you’ve got diverticulitis too, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I get flare-ups about three or four times a year. And let me tell you, they are not the kind of seasonal events you look forward to — like Glastonbury or strawberry season. These are more “cancel all plans, hug a hot water bottle, and become best mates with your toilet” type situations. Sexy, I know.

The First Flare: A Shocking Debut

Like most relationships gone wrong, my history with diverticulitis started innocently. A bit of belly ache, some cramping, maybe a rogue bout of trapped wind. But soon enough, it escalated.

Cue fever, chills, and the kind of pain that made me think I’d accidentally swallowed a cheese grater. Spoiler: I hadn’t. The real culprit was my inflamed colon. I ended up in hospital, and that’s when I got the official diagnosis: diverticulitis.

“You’ve got some inflamed pouches,” the doctor said, like he was describing a minor wardrobe malfunction. “You’ll need antibiotics, and you should probably lay off the spicy food.” I nodded in agreement, even as a tear rolled down my cheek for the chicken jalfrezi I’d never eat again — or so I thought.

Flare-Ups: The Return of the Gut Gremlins

These days, I can almost smell a flare-up coming. It starts with that ominous discomfort low in the gut — like something’s stirring in the depths, plotting. Within 12 hours, I’m hunched over, cradling my abdomen like I’ve just been rejected from Love Island and eaten an entire lasagne out of spite.

When this happens, I go full monk mode: no food, just water, lots of rest, and my trusty antibiotics (on repeat prescription — shout-out to my GP for enabling my slightly rebellious self-treatment regime). After a couple of days, the pain eases. But oh, the drama in between.

I once got so bad I ended up back in hospital. I was on fluids, hooked up to machines, and being fed nothing while my digestive system threw an internal tantrum. Fun times.

Tips to Dodge the Flare (or at Least Give It a Run for Its Money)

Now, after years of trial, error, and far too much Googling at 3 am I’ve picked up a few tricks that help keep flare-ups at bay — or at least reduce the drama when one hits:

1. Respect the Fibre… But Don’t Go Overboard

Fibre is like that friend who gives great life advice but gets a bit much after two drinks. Too little fibre, and your gut gets sluggish. Too much all at once, and it’s like dropping a Mentos in a Diet Coke bottle. I stick to whole grains, cooked veggies (raw ones are a gamble), and avoid anything that’s going to test my intestines’ patience.

Fibre intake is such a grey area when tackling this disease. Doctors, say ‘eat more fibre’, but for me, my flare-ups all start with too much fibre. Lettuce and tomatoes are full of fibre. The exact culprits of my last flare-up! One which put me in hospital.

My workaround is the wonders of Fybogel. Amazing product that keeps me firm (urh) and regular, provides fibre and does not destroy my guts. Trust me this the golden bullet of living with Diverticulitis 👌

2. Hydration is Not Optional

Water is your new best friend. Not herbal tea. Not fizzy drinks. Just boring, glorious water. It keeps things moving along and prevents your gut from staging a full-blown rebellion. I carry a bottle like it’s a fashion accessory — hydration is the new black.

3. Avoid Trigger Foods (Yes, Even If You Love Them)

This one hurts. Deeply. But there are just some foods that are like emotional exes for your colon. For me, it’s red meat, nuts, and occasionally — sob — spicy curries. I still dabble on special occasions (I’m only human), but I go in knowing full well that I may pay the price with a 3-day gut hangover.

4. Don’t Skip the Toilet (Seriously)

Holding it in is a no-no. Your colon needs to be emptied regularly and respectfully. If you feel the urge, make the time. Be kind to your gut and give it the facilities it deserves. And yes, that includes public toilets if you’re caught short — carry hand sanitiser and a brave face. Disabled toilets are must for me - not sure if this legal, but oh well.

5. Move Your Body (Gently)

I’m not saying run a marathon (unless you’re into that sort of self-punishment), but a daily walk or bit of yoga (joke) can help things move along nicely. Plus, it’s a good excuse to get outside and pretend you’re a functioning adult.

When a Flare Hits: What I Actually Do

It’s not glamorous, but here’s my go-to routine when the gut gremlins strike:

• Stop eating immediately (yep, full famine mode)
• Only water for 24-48 hours — no juice, no soup, nothing your colon could misinterpret as food
• Start antibiotics as prescribed — I keep a repeat script on hand so I’m not scrambling
• Rest as much as possible — not just physically but mentally (worrying does not speed up recovery)
• Once pain subsides, reintroduce food slowly — white bread, clear soup and toast become the holy trinity

I usually feel a lot better after 3-4 days, but I take it easy for a week just in case. The last thing you want is to bounce back too fast and end up back in the toilet or in bed sweating doing the world’s worst encore.

The Toilet Truth

Let’s not be shy — the bathroom experience post-flare-up is its own special kind of horror. You’ll sit there, regretting every decision from that slice of cheesecake to the time you ignored that mild cramp because you “didn’t want to be dramatic.” But again, once it’s over… peace returns. Like a calm after a literal storm.

Bonus tip: wet wipes. Just trust me. 😂

Should You See a Doctor? Always Yes

Now, as much as I’m the self-appointed mayor of Diverticulitis Town, this condition isn’t something to mess around with. If you’re getting frequent flare-ups like me, make sure your doctor’s in the loop.

Some people might need further imaging, stronger meds, or even surgery if things get out of hand - we’ll discuss that one soon 😱

So don’t be stubborn (like I was) — go see your GP. And be honest. Yes, even about that dodgy kebab you ate after the pub and the amount of IPA you like to consume.

Closing Thoughts from the Gut Side

Living with diverticulitis isn’t glamorous, but it doesn’t have to be a complete drag either. You learn your limits, find your workarounds, and become strangely in tune with your colon’s emotional state.

Yes, I’ve lost a few foods I once loved. Tomatoes - sigh. Yes, I’ve had more toilet-based bonding moments than I care to count. But I’ve also found that with a little caution, a bit of humour, and a lot of water, you can keep life ticking along.

And if nothing else, it gives you a great excuse to avoid salad at parties. “Sorry mate, medical exemption. But I’ll be over here with the mash and plain chicken.”

Stay regular, friends. 💩