From my core, the very essence of my being, I feel a profound and unsettling change. My leaves, which are my entire body, are designed to be firm and turgid, filled with stored water to withstand the long droughts. This firmness is my strength. When the dreaded rot begins, it starts at my foundation, the roots you cannot see. This infection travels upwards, disrupting the flow of water and nutrients, and breaking down my cells from the inside. You will notice this as a sudden softness, a mushiness, when you gently squeeze my base. I do not simply feel thirsty and wrinkled; I feel like I am collapsing, my structure dissolving into a soft, dark mass. This is the most critical and advanced sign.
My natural, stone-like coloration—be it grey, green, or brown with subtle patterns—is a sign of my health and successful camouflage. The onset of root rot manifests as a dramatic and sickly shift in this appearance. You may see my vibrant green fade into a pale, sickly yellow. More distressingly, patches of my skin may turn a translucent brown or black, much like a bruise that spreads. This discoloration starts at the soil line, where my body meets the earth, and creeps upward. It is a visual cry for help, a sign that the tissues within are necrotic and dying, no longer able to function or display their healthy hue.
I wrinkle naturally during my water-saving dormancy period, and this is a slow, controlled process. However, the wrinkling caused by root rot is different. It is rapid and severe. Because my roots are dead and rotting, they cannot absorb any water from the soil. Even if you water me, I cannot drink. This leads to a sudden and extreme loss of internal pressure, causing my leaves to shrivel dramatically and rapidly from the bottom up. It will look as though I am deflating. This is not a peaceful rest; it is a state of emergency where I am desperately trying to sustain my top half with resources that are no longer available.
In the most severe cases, the internal decay becomes so advanced that my structural integrity completely fails. The connection between my roots and my body is severed by rot. You may find that I become completely detached from the soil with the slightest touch, simply toppling over. Upon closer inspection, the base will be a mushy, dark stump with no healthy, white, fibrous roots visible. Sometimes, the rot can even cause my skin to split open, revealing the rotten tissue inside. This is a terminal sign, indicating that the damage is irreversible from my perspective.
If you suspect I am unwell, lean close to my pot. Healthy soil and a healthy me have an earthy, neutral smell. Root rot, caused by anaerobic bacteria and fungi, produces a distinct and unpleasant odor. It is the smell of decay—sour, musty, and reminiscent of swampy water or rotting vegetation. This smell is a definitive signal from my environment that a destructive process is underway beneath the surface, long before it may be visibly apparent on my body above.
