From my perspective as a Haworthia, root rot is a terrifying and suffocating experience. It is not merely a disease but a systemic collapse of my most vital connection to the world: my roots. Understanding it requires seeing the world through my roots and stem.
My roots are not just anchors; they are breathing organs. Like the rest of my succulent body, they require a balance of water and air. The fundamental cause of root rot is the destruction of this balance. When I am planted in a dense, moisture-retentive soil or a pot without adequate drainage, water fills the air pockets between the soil particles. My roots are plunged into a watery tomb, unable to respire. This oxygen starvation causes the root cells to die and begin to decay. This decay is the rot you see. Furthermore, the anaerobic conditions created by waterlogging are a perfect breeding ground for fungi like *Pythium* and *Fusarium*. These pathogens are often present but harmless in a well-aerated medium; it is the stress and death of my tissues that invite them in as opportunistic invaders, accelerating the decay process.
Several human actions can exacerbate this suffocation. Overwatering is the most direct, especially during my dormant periods in high heat or cold when my water needs are minimal. A pot that is too large is also problematic. After a watering, a vast volume of soil stays wet for far too long, surrounding my relatively small root system in persistent dampness. Additionally, physical damage to my roots during repotting creates open wounds. If these wounded roots are immediately placed into moist soil, pathogens have a direct entry point into my system, bypassing the natural defenses of healthy root tissue.
Once rot begins in the roots, it does not stay there. My vascular system, which is designed to transport water and nutrients upwards from the roots, becomes a highway for the rotting process. The decay and associated pathogens travel up through the xylem vessels into the stem. You might notice this as a softening, darkening, or blackening at the base of my leaves, which may become mushy and translucent. As the rot climbs, it severs the connection between my healthy leaves and what remains of my root system. I am essentially being disconnected from my life source. My leaves, unable to get water, will start to wilt, shrivel, and discolor, even as the stem is rotting—a confusing but telling sign of the internal blockage.
To save me, immediate and decisive action is needed. I must be removed from the wet soil immediately. Gently clean all the soil from my roots and stem so you can see the full extent of the damage. Using a sterile, sharp tool, you must cut away all the soft, brown, or black roots and any affected tissue from the stem. This is a life-saving amputation. You must cut until only firm, healthy, white or green tissue remains. Any rot left behind will continue to spread. After this surgery, I need time to form a protective callus over the wounds. I must be left in a shaded, well-ventilated area for several days to a week. This callus is my bandage, preventing new infections when I am repotted.
My second chance at life depends on a new environment. I require a very gritty, fast-draining potting mix, perhaps a specialty cactus and succulent mix amended with extra perlite, pumice, or coarse sand. The pot must have a drainage hole and be only slightly larger than my remaining root system. When repotting, wait another few days before giving me a light watering. This allows any minor root disturbances to heal, encouraging me to send out new roots in search of moisture, which is the final sign of my recovery.
