From my perspective, the first step to recovery is you recognizing that I am in trouble. I cannot speak, so I communicate through my foliage and growth patterns. If my leaves are turning yellow, wilting, or becoming mushy despite adequate watering, it is a primary cry for help. You might notice a general lack of vigor; I stop producing new growth and my beautiful flowers may fail to emerge or wither prematurely. Most critically, if you detect a foul, musty odor emanating from my soil, it is a definitive sign that my root system, my very foundation, is under attack by anaerobic bacteria and fungi thriving in waterlogged conditions.
To truly assess the damage, you must gently remove me from my pot. This feels like a major upheaval, but it is necessary for my survival. Carefully brush away the saturated soil to expose my root system. Healthy roots should be firm and white or tan. If they are dark brown or black, mushy to the touch, and easily pull away, I am suffering from advanced root rot. The smell will be unmistakable. This process is stressful but critical for you to understand the extent of the decay.
Using sterilized, sharp scissors or pruning shears, you must act as my surgeon. Carefully cut away all the soft, rotten roots. Be ruthless but precise; any decaying material left behind will continue to spread the infection. Trim until you only have firm, healthy root tissue remaining. This leaves me with a drastically reduced root system, but it is my only chance. After the pruning, it is beneficial to gently wash my remaining roots to remove any lingering soil and pathogens. A gentle bath is a relief after the trauma of surgery.
I cannot return to my old, contaminated home. You must provide me with a new pot, ideally with fresh, sterile drainage holes, and completely new, well-draining potting mix. The old soil is a reservoir of disease. Choose a mix that is airy and allows water to flow through freely, perhaps one amended with perlite or orchid bark. When repotting, handle my fragile, remaining roots with care and position me at the same depth I was growing before. Firm the new soil gently around me to provide stability without compacting it too much.
After this traumatic experience, my care needs change drastically. Do not water me immediately. My reduced root system needs time to callus over the cuts and cannot absorb much moisture. Wait several days before offering a modest drink. From now on, you must learn my new watering language. Only water when the top inch or two of my soil feels dry to the touch. I need bright, indirect light to regain my strength through photosynthesis, but protect me from harsh, direct sun while I am so vulnerable. Hold off on fertilizer; my system is too delicate to handle it and it could burn my tender new roots.
