From my perspective, the world has become a suffocating, cold prison. My roots, which are meant to gently sip oxygen and moisture from the air pockets in the soil, are instead submerged. The constant wetness is a death sentence. You see, my rhizomes—those potato-like storage organs at my base—are my larder. They hold all the water and nutrients I need to survive droughts, my special evolutionary trick. But when the soil is perpetually soggy, these rhizomes and the roots attached to them begin to suffocate. They can't breathe. The cells break down, and opportunistic pathogens, fungi, and bacteria that thrive in waterlogged conditions launch their attack. This is root rot. It starts as a soft, mushy feeling, a darkening of my once-white, sturdy roots. The rot spreads, blocking my ability to transport water and nutrients upwards, ironically leaving my stems and leaves to yellow and wilt even as my roots drown.
The first thing I need is to get out of that swampy pot. Please, gently lift me out of my container. You'll need to assess the damage. This part is critical for my survival. Carefully remove as much of the wet soil as possible from around my root ball. Be gentle; my healthy roots are fragile now. You will likely find a mix of roots: some firm and white or light brown, and others that are dark brown or black, slimy, and mushy. The smell might be unpleasant—that's the rot. Using clean, sharp scissors or pruning shears (sterilized with rubbing alcohol to prevent spreading disease), you must cut away all the rotten roots. Be ruthless but careful. Any rot left behind will continue to spread. Cut back until you see only healthy, firm root tissue. This feels like a drastic amputation, but it is the only way to stop the decay from consuming me entirely.
After the surgery, I am vulnerable. I need a new, clean home. Do not, under any circumstances, put me back into the old soil, even if it seems drier now. It is filled with the pathogens that caused this problem. You must repot me into a fresh, well-draining potting mix. A mix designed for cacti and succulents is perfect, or you can make your own by adding plenty of perlite or coarse sand to a standard potting mix. My new pot is equally important. It must have excellent drainage holes. If possible, choose a terracotta pot, as its porous walls allow excess moisture to evaporate from the sides, helping the soil dry out more evenly. The pot should only be slightly larger than my remaining root system; a pot that is too large will hold too much soil and, consequently, too much water, setting us up for another disaster.
Once I am safely in my new, well-draining home, the most important thing you can do is… nothing. Do not water me. I need time to callous over the wounds where you cut the roots. More importantly, my remaining root system is tiny, and my plump rhizomes are still full of water. I have enough internal reserves to last for weeks, even months. Watering me now would be the worst thing you could do. Place me in a spot with bright, indirect light. Avoid direct, harsh sunlight as I am stressed and could easily scorch. Wait. Be patient. You might not see any new growth for a long time, and that is okay. My priority is rebuilding my root system underground. Only when the soil is completely dry all the way through the pot, and even then wait a few more days, should you consider giving me a small, modest drink. From now on, the rule is simple: when in doubt, wait it out. I am built for neglect, and that is the greatest kindness you can show me as I heal.
