Who wouldn't want to spend a few extra days in New York City after PBR? I got the chance to take in all the sights of the Big Apple right from my hospital window as I chowed down, not on gourmet entrees, but industrial-kitchen prepared food.

First off folks, don't feel bad or sorry for me. As far as the wreck is concerned, I'm not down and out about it. When you ride bulls for a living, this is a definite side effect.

At first, after the impact, I don't remember feeling any initial pain when I actually broke my right leg. I tried crawling away and then realized that I couldn't put any weight on my knee.  I lay there and told Frank Newsom that I thought I'd broken it. I tried to straighten out my left leg and realized half of it was dragging in the dirt. At this point, I finally came to the realization that I was pretty messed up, and let Tandy and his crew do their thing.

While laying in the dirt on the floor of Madison Square Garden a lot of things flash through your head: I started to think about other guys who broke a leg. How long were they out for? I broke both; does this mean double the time?

By the time Sports Medicine got me on the backboard, the pain started to creep in for real. And it crept in really fast.

For all of you who wonder if an athlete that has been injured hears the encouragement and cheers of the crowd, this cowboy will tell you that its true. As they picked me up I heard the whole arena-chanting Pistol, Pistol! My brother later told me that I was probably in a very elite group of men whose names were chanted by a full house at Madison Square Garden.

The ride to the hospital was the very first time I was in an ambulance. Because of New York City traffic and the fact that they wanted to keep the vehicle moving slow so it didn't bounce my legs, the ride was long even though it was only a few blocks. Even in my advanced pain I probably could have gotten out of the ambulance and run faster than it along side. Just my competitive nature kicking in, I guess.

My first night in Bellevue Hospital was a strange time. It was a mixture of excruciating pain and at times complete relaxation. I always heard about this famous hospital on TV but figured I'd be signing autographs for sick kids if I ever visited, and not seeing this sick kid named Pistol in the hospital himself.

Surgery followed the next morning for the femur in my right leg. My dad Darrell and girlfriend Kelsey flew up from Texas in time to see me waking up from the surgery. I had a couple of days to recuperate and rest for a couple of days before the surgery on my left leg. All in all, I was in the hospital for six days. The staff took great care of me and I'm happy to say both surgeries went very well. I guess a southern boy in a big New York hospital draws attention. The New York Daily News caught me for an interview just before I left last Friday.

Luckily my aunt and cattle partner arranged for me and my entourage to travel back to Texas in first class. That made any residual pain go away quickly.

I'm so happy to be back in Texas. I'm staying at my grandmother's, so you can imagine I'm living in the lap of luxury. My grandmother is making sure I'm not hungry, thirsty or lacking anything. Another of my aunts who is a registered nurse is handling all of my medical and medication needs. The good life!

My girlfriend stands by my side strong as ever and my friends and family have bombarded my room with love and care - and plenty of food. I'm lucky to have such a strong family to assist me through this.

What I'm taking from this is I've never been off from bull riding anywhere near this long. The longest it has been between bull rides for me since I was 5 was no more than a month. I'm out now for the rest of the year. I know I have a long road ahead of me. But what a chance to redefine what this sport means to me and how I want to go about capturing it in the future. This is an opportunity to better myself to a new height that I've never reached. I'm ready for the challenge.

Thank you so much to all my fans for your support and words of encouragement. I read every one of them and want you to know that just like the cheers at Madison Square Garden, your kind words take any pain I still feel away.

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