From my perspective as an Adenium obesum, a desert dweller at heart, root rot is not just a disease; it is a suffocating, drowning catastrophe. My very being is built for arid, sun-baked environments, and when my roots are forced to sit in moisture, it feels like a fundamental betrayal of my nature. Here is a detailed account of what root rot means for me and how it can be remedied.
For me, a healthy root system is my lifeblood. My thick, caudex roots are designed to store water, allowing me to thrive during long periods of drought. They are meant to breathe. When I am over-loved with too much water, or planted in a dense, water-retentive medium, the air pockets in the soil are flooded. My roots begin to suffocate. The initial feeling is one of waterlogging and stress. Then, the opportunistic pathogens, fungi like Pythium and Phytophthora, which are always present in damp conditions, attack my suffocating, weakened tissues. They consume my roots, turning them from firm, white, and healthy into a soft, brown, and mushy mess. This rot prevents me from absorbing water and nutrients, creating a cruel irony: I am dying of thirst while drowning.
I will try to communicate my plight through my above-ground parts. The first and most telling sign is often my leaves. They will start to yellow, often beginning with the older leaves, and may become limp. As the rot progresses, my stems will feel soft, and my magnificent, swollen caudex may become soft and spongy to the touch—a severe warning sign. In a desperate attempt to survive, I may drop my leaves and flowers to conserve energy. If you were to gently unpot me, the evidence would be undeniable: a foul, decaying smell and roots that fall apart in your hands, rather than being resilient and firm.
If you discover my condition in time, a surgical intervention is necessary. Please be gentle but decisive. First, remove me from my pot and carefully wash all the old, contaminated soil from my roots. Using a sharp, sterilized knife, you must cut away all the soft, brown, and rotten tissue. Do not be hesitant; any rot left behind will spread. Cut back until you only see clean, white, firm flesh. If you see any discoloration inside the caudex or stems, scrape it out until only healthy tissue remains. After this amputation, dust all the cut surfaces with a fungicide powder like sulfur or cinnamon, which acts as a protective bandage.
After the surgery, I am vulnerable and need specific conditions to heal. The most crucial step is to let my wounds callus over completely. You must place me in a warm, dry, and shaded spot with good air circulation for at least 5-7 days. Do not water me during this time. The cut ends must dry and form a hard seal. Once fully callused, you can repot me into a completely new, dry, and most importantly, extremely well-draining potting mix. A blend designed for cacti and succulents, with plenty of perlite, pumice, or coarse sand, is ideal. Do not water me immediately after repotting. Wait for another 5-7 days to allow me to settle and to encourage new root growth in search of moisture.
To ensure I never have to endure this again, my care must mimic my natural habitat. My pot must have ample drainage holes. My soil must be gritty and fast-draining. The most important rule is your watering routine: you must only water me when my soil is completely dry. In cooler months, I need very little water. It is always better to err on the side of underwatering than overwatering. By understanding my needs as a xerophytic plant, you can provide an environment where my roots can breathe, thrive, and support a healthy, blooming life.
