From the Saddle to Survival: Texas Dad Matt Bustos’ Harrowing Fight After a Hunting Accident Brain Injury

LUBBOCK, TX — The vast, windswept plains of New Mexico, where antelope roam free and the horizon stretches endlessly, are a hunter’s paradise. But on August 24, 2025, that paradise turned perilous for Matt Bustos, a 38-year-old Texas oilfield engineer, devoted husband, and proud father. What began as an exhilarating antelope hunt with longtime friends spiraled into a freak accident that left him clinging to life with a catastrophic brain injury. A sudden fall from his horse at high speed triggered bleeding on the brain and a diagnosis of Diffuse Axonal Injury (DAI)—one of the most severe forms of traumatic brain injury, often likened to the brain’s wiring being sheared apart in a high-impact crash. Airlifted hundreds of miles to Covenant Medical Center in Lubbock, Matt’s survival odds were grim. Yet, against all medical prognoses, he’s fighting back, now undergoing intensive rehabilitation at TIRR Memorial Hermann in Houston, a globally renowned neurorehab facility. His wife Jaclyn and 6-year-old son Pearce stand vigil, their pleas for prayers echoing across social media and tight-knit Texas communities.

The accident unfolded in a blur on a remote ranch near the Texas-New Mexico border, where Matt and a group of buddies from West Texas had ventured for their annual hunting getaway. An avid outdoorsman who grew up roping cattle on his family’s ranch in Midland, Matt was in his element—tracking pronghorn antelope under the relentless sun, the thrill of the chase pulsing through his veins. “He lives for these trips,” Jaclyn Bustos recalls, her voice steady but laced with the weight of the past month. “It’s where he unwinds, connects with friends, and feels that raw freedom.” But as Matt spurred his horse into a gallop pursuing a herd, disaster struck. The terrain, rugged with hidden dips and scrub brush, proved treacherous. The horse stumbled—perhaps on a gopher hole or loose rock—and Matt was hurled forward, his helmeted head slamming into the unyielding earth at over 20 miles per hour.

Eyewitnesses, including his best friend and hunting partner Carlos Ramirez, described the scene as “heart-stopping.” “One second he’s laughing, yelling ‘Got ’em in sight!’ The next, he’s down, not moving,” Ramirez shared in a family-posted video update that has circulated widely on local Facebook groups. Initial fears were for spinal injuries, but as Matt lay unconscious, blood trickling from his ear, the gravity sank in. A rapid response from the outfitter’s medic stabilized his neck with a collar, and within 45 minutes, a CareFlite helicopter from Lubbock swooped in, airlifting him 200 miles across the Chihuahuan Desert. The flight was tense; pilots navigated choppy thermals while paramedics monitored vital signs plummeting under the trauma’s shock.

At Covenant Hospital, a Level I trauma center affiliated with Texas Tech University Health Sciences Center, the ER team sprang into action. CT scans revealed subdural and epidural hematomas—pools of blood compressing the brain—while an MRI confirmed the nightmare: Diffuse Axonal Injury, grade 3, the most devastating classification. DAI occurs when the brain’s axons, the long nerve fibers that transmit signals like electrical cables in a neural network, are torn by rotational forces during impact. Unlike focal injuries from bullets or strokes, DAI is diffuse, affecting widespread areas and often leading to coma, cognitive deficits, and lifelong disabilities. “It’s like the brain’s superhighway system got shredded in a multi-car pileup,” explains Dr. Rajesh Kalra, a neurosurgeon at Covenant who led Matt’s initial care. “Survival rates hover around 50% for severe cases, and full recovery is rare—maybe 10-20% regain independence.”

Surgery was immediate: a craniotomy to evacuate the bleeding and reduce intracranial pressure, followed by a ventriculostomy drain to siphon excess fluid. Matt was placed in a medically induced coma for 72 hours, his family huddled in the neuro-ICU waiting room, trading shifts to hold his hand through the haze of sedation. Jaclyn, a 36-year-old school counselor, arrived from Midland with Pearce in tow, the boy clutching a stuffed buck Matt had won him at a fair. “Pearce kept asking, ‘When’s Daddy gonna wake up and tell stories about the big hunt?'” she says, tears welling. The couple, high school sweethearts married for 12 years, built their life around simple joys: Friday night lights at Permian High, backyard barbecues, and Matt coaching Pearce’s Little League team. Now, those dreams hung by a thread.

As the coma lifted, glimmers of Matt emerged. On day five, he squeezed Jaclyn’s hand—a Morse code of resilience. By week two, he was off the ventilator, mouthing words through a tracheostomy tube. But DAI’s shadow loomed: left-side hemiparesis (weakness), short-term memory lapses, and episodes of agitation from frontal lobe disruption. “He’d forget Pearce’s name one minute, then crack a joke about the horse owing him a rematch,” Jaclyn posted on their GoFundMe page, which has raised over $45,000 from 800 donors. Scans showed axonal shearing in the corpus callosum and brainstem, areas critical for communication between hemispheres and basic functions like balance. Prognosis discussions were blunt: potential for permanent wheelchair use, speech therapy for life, and a 40% risk of post-traumatic epilepsy.

Transfer to TIRR Memorial Hermann on September 5 marked a pivotal shift. Nestled in Houston’s Texas Medical Center—the world’s largest medical complex—TIRR (The Institute for Rehabilitation and Research) is a beacon for brain injury survivors. Founded in 1954 after a polio outbreak, it pioneered neurorehab techniques and boasts a 90% patient satisfaction rate. U.S. News & World Report ranks it among the top 10 rehab hospitals nationally, with specialties in TBI (traumatic brain injury) that draw patients from across the globe. Matt’s care team, led by Dr. Gerard Francisco, a TBI expert, includes physiatrists, neuropsychologists, occupational therapists, and even therapeutic horseback riding specialists—ironic, given the accident’s cause.

At TIRR, Matt’s regimen is grueling yet hopeful. Mornings start with physical therapy: gait training on a zero-gravity treadmill to rebuild leg strength, where he’s progressed from 10 feet with a walker to 50 unassisted. Afternoons bring cognitive drills—puzzles to sharpen memory, apps simulating oilfield scenarios to reconnect with his career passion. “He’s determined; that Texas grit shines through,” Dr. Francisco notes. “DAI recovery is nonlinear—plateaus, regressions—but early aggression like his yields best outcomes.” Surgeries loom: a possible shunt for hydrocephalus and nerve stimulator implants for pain. Costs mount—insurance covers 70%, but therapies run $15,000 monthly—fueling the fundraiser for adaptive equipment like a modified truck and home ramps.

The Bustos family’s story has rippled through Texas’ heartland, amplified by local news like KAMC-TV and faith communities. Midland’s First Baptist Church held a prayer vigil on September 15, with over 300 attendees lighting candles inscribed with “Ride On, Matt.” Social media buzzes with #PrayForBustos, where friends share Matt’s pre-accident clips: him teaching Pearce to cast a line at Lake Ivie, or slow-dancing with Jaclyn at a rodeo. “He’s our rock,” one donor wrote. “Now we rock for him.” Experts highlight DAI’s prevalence—over 1.7 million TBIs annually in the U.S., per the CDC, with horseback falls causing 20% of rural cases. Helmets mitigate but don’t eliminate risk; Matt’s saved his skull but not the brain’s jolt.

Pearce, resilient at 6, draws superheroes battling “brain monsters,” his innocence a balm. Jaclyn juggles remote work and visits, her mantra: “One day at a time.” Matt’s first full sentence post-transfer? “Gonna hunt again… smarter.” Laughter amid tears—that’s their anchor. As September wanes, discharge is eyed for late October, with outpatient therapy in Midland. The road is long, laced with uncertainties: Will he return to the rigs? Coach T-ball? But Matt’s spirit, unyielding as West Texas wind, whispers yes.

In a state where “tough” is a badge, the Bustos saga reminds us fragility lurks in joy’s pursuits. Prayers pour in—from ranch hands to rig workers—knitting a safety net of support. Matt, Jaclyn, Pearce: You’re not alone. Your fight fuels ours. Keep riding, cowboy. The herd awaits.

For updates or to contribute, visit gofundme.com/f/mattbustosrecovery. Every prayer, every share, every dollar counts.