From my perspective, deep in the pot, it begins not as a disease, but as a suffocation. My roots are my lungs and my mouth; they need to breathe air and sip water. When I am forced to sit in heavy, waterlogged soil with no drainage, I am literally drowning. The oxygen pockets in the soil disappear, and my delicate white root tips, which are responsible for absorbing water and nutrients, begin to suffocate and die. This weakness is the opening that the silent, ever-present oomycetes (often called water molds), like *Phytophthora* or *Pythium*, have been waiting for. They are not true fungi, but they act like them, and they thrive in these waterlogged conditions. They attack my compromised tissues, and the rot begins to spread through my root system.
I cannot speak, so I must show you my distress through my leaves and flowers. The first sign you might notice is my leaves starting to yellow, often beginning with the lower, older leaves. This is because my rotting roots can no longer deliver vital nutrients and water to my entire structure. As the problem worsens, my stems will feel soft and mushy at the base, and my famously glossy leaves will begin to wilt and droop dramatically, even though the soil feels wet. This is a critical contradiction! I am parched because my roots are too rotten to drink. You might also see my vibrant flowers (spathes) become discolored and green, or my new growth emerge stunted and deformed. If I am not helped soon, the collapse will be total.
To save me, you must act decisively. Gently lift me from my pot and carefully wash the old, suffocating soil away from my roots. This is my chance to breathe again. Now, you must perform surgery. Using sterilized, sharp shears, cut away every single root that is brown, black, mushy, or smells foul. Healthy roots are firm and white or tan. Be ruthless; any rot left behind will spread. After the pruning, let my root system air dry for a few hours. Then, please repot me into a brand new, sterile pot (or a thoroughly cleaned old one) that has excellent drainage holes. The new home you choose for me is vital: it must be a very airy, chunky mix, perhaps of orchid bark, perlite, and a little peat moss. This new environment will allow my remaining healthy roots to breathe and prevent a relapse.
My needs are simple. I crave a home that mimics my natural epiphytic lifestyle, where I grow on trees in dappled light with air around my roots. Please, never let me sit in a saucer of water. Water me thoroughly only when the top few inches of my chunky soil mix feel dry to your touch. I love humidity around my leaves, but I despise wet feet. Ensure my pot is not too large; a pot that is too big holds excess moisture for far too long, creating the same waterlogged conditions that made me sick. Finally, give me bright, indirect light. This helps me process water efficiently and stay strong, making me more resilient against any pathogens that might be lurking. With this care, my roots will remain healthy, firm, and white, allowing me to thrive and show my gratitude with beautiful, long-lasting flowers.
