From my perspective as a cactus, root rot is a terrifying and suffocating experience. It begins not with malice, but with a simple environmental mismatch. My very being is engineered for arid, sun-baked landscapes with infrequent, torrential hydration. When my caretaker provides conditions contrary to this—constant moisture, dense soil, or a pot that traps water—it creates a crisis I am ill-equipped to handle.
I cannot speak, so I communicate my internal decay through my external form. The earliest signs are often subtle. You might notice a slight change in my color, becoming paler or yellowish, a sign my chlorophyll is failing. My firm, plump flesh may begin to feel soft and mushy, often starting at the base near the soil line. I might become unstable and wobble in my pot because my anchoring roots are disintegrating. In severe cases, the top growth may stop completely, as I have no functional root system to take up water or nutrients, despite the soggy conditions at my feet.
The only chance for my survival is immediate and decisive action. I must be gently lifted from my pot. This is a delicate operation; my tissues are compromised and fragile. Once free, the soil must be carefully brushed away from my root ball to reveal the extent of the damage. Healthy roots on a plant like me are firm and white or tan. Rotten roots are unmistakable: they are brown or black, slimy to the touch, and may fall apart easily, often emitting a foul, decaying smell. This is the evidence of the fungal pathogens that have invaded my system.
This is the most critical step. Using a sterile, sharp knife or scissors, every single piece of affected tissue must be cut away. This means removing all the soft, brown roots and any soft, discolored areas on my base or stem. It is crucial to cut until only healthy, firm, green or white tissue remains. Any rot left behind will simply continue to spread. After the surgery, it is wise to dust my wounds with sulfur or a copper-based fungicide to create a protective barrier against further fungal attack.
I now need time to heal. I must be placed in a warm, dry, and shaded area with good air circulation for a period ranging from several days to a few weeks. This allows the fresh cuts to dry completely and form a hard, protective callus over the wounds. This callus is my natural bandage; it prevents moisture loss and blocks entry points for new infections. Potting me immediately into fresh soil would be a death sentence, as the damp medium would cause the wounds to rot again.
Once fully calloused, I am ready for a new home. The pot must have excellent drainage holes and be only slightly larger than my remaining root system. The soil is paramount—it must be a gritty, fast-draining cactus and succulent mix, often improved with extra perlite, pumice, or coarse sand. I should be planted just deep enough to stand upright. After repotting, I must not be watered immediately. A wait of another week allows any minor root disturbances to heal, preventing a relapse before I finally receive a deep, thorough watering, after which the soil should be allowed to dry out completely before the next drink.
