Inside Rat Pack Fighting Systems in Palmerton, Dillon “D-Boy” Masington can do something that still doesn’t make sense to him.

He can roll jiu-jitsu at full speed.

But there are days when sleeping comfortably is still a challenge.

“How can I roll and get my neck cranked, but I can’t lay on a pillow?” Masington said. “It doesn’t make sense.”

After more than a year away — and a health crisis that once made “never again” feel like a realistic outcome — the Palmerton native is back on the mats. It has only been a couple of weeks, but for the first time in a long time, Masington says he feels like himself again.

At least when he’s training.

“I still can’t run, jump rope, jog or do calisthenics,” he said. “I still get sick. My body just won’t do that. But for some reason, when I roll jiu-jitsu, I can do whatever. I literally don’t feel like I missed a day.”

A problem that wouldn’t go away

For more than two years, Masington knew something wasn’t right. Symptoms came and went. Tests didn’t reveal answers. He kept training anyway.

“It started on my wedding night,” he said. “It went on for two-and-a-half years.”

On his 30th birthday, his appendix ruptured. What doctors initially believed would be a routine surgery became a nine-and-a-half-hour operation.

His father, Nick Masington, said surgeons discovered a hardened mass roughly the size of a grapefruit that had attached itself to multiple internal organs. Masington underwent a hemicolectomy and lost part of his colon along with several feet of intestines.

The surgery came in December, followed by months of recovery that made even basic daily tasks uncertain.

Long before his health forced everything into question, Masington had already reached levels many fighters spend their entire careers chasing.

Learning how to live again

The biggest day-to-day challenge hasn’t been training.

It’s been eating.

“Physically the hardest thing — and we’re still not out of it — is learning how to eat,” Masington said. “I was diagnosed with gastroparesis after surgery, and that changed everything.”

A liquid diet helped stabilize him for a time. Even now, he doesn’t expect things to ever fully return to normal.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to eat like I used to,” he said. “That’s just reality.”

The recovery process became a full family effort.

For his mother, Sandi Masington, wife Kayla, and father Nick, the past year revolved around appointments, travel and constant adjustments.

“We counted 97 doctor visits in one year,” said Nick. “Six hospitalizations, 16 lab studies. We were driving to Philadelphia every other day. It became our life.”

Throughout it all, she said, Dillon never complained.

“Mentally, he’s incredibly tough,” said Sandi. “He just does what needs to be done. And after everything he went through, he’s happier. He’s grateful to be alive.”

Masington also credits his wife and parents for carrying him through the most difficult stretches of recovery.

“It was a team effort,” he said. “There’s no way I get through this alone.”

Letting go of control

Masington has always been intense — about training, preparation and holding himself to a high standard. This experience forced him to change that mindset.

“I accepted the day I was admitted to the hospital that I could die,” he said. “So I stopped planning ahead. It’s just day by day now.”

That shift hasn’t been easy. He admits he wanted to talk about what happened constantly — not for sympathy, but because surviving it felt meaningful.

“It’s one of the proudest things I’ve ever been through,” he said. “But not everyone wants to hear the whole story all the time.”

What surprised him most was how much clarity came once the uncertainty was gone.

“For two and a half years, I knew something was wrong, and no one could find it,” he said. “When they finally did, even if it meant surgery and recovery, it was relief. I wasn’t crazy. I was right.”

Back — but different

When Masington first thought about returning to jiu-jitsu, he didn’t believe there could be a middle ground.

“I was either going to be back to exactly where I was, or I wasn’t coming back at all,” he said. “I didn’t want to come back and be a version of myself I didn’t recognize.”

Instead, he has found a new way to adapt.

His return has been both measured and deliberate. Masington has eased back into training alongside longtime partners Zach Kemmerer and Brandon Wallander, two familiar presences who understand both his style and where he is in his recovery.

Much of the movement-based training he relied on — parkour, flips, constant motion — is likely gone for good. He’s accepted that.

“I’m OK with it,” he said. “I don’t care about the other stuff. If I can do this, that’s enough.”

Even his style on the mats has evolved. He jokes that he’s embraced a “Tom Sawyer” approach — letting opponents do the work while he guides them into mistakes.

“I don’t force things anymore,” he said. “I let them move where they want to move, and I react.”

For the Palmerton native, returning to the mats where he has trained, coached and built community for years made the comeback feel personal — not performative.

A broader view of success

During the months when he believed jiu-jitsu might be over, Masington explored other outlets and found success in unexpected places, including content creation and social media.

“It proved to me that I don’t need just one thing to be successful,” he said. “That mattered.”

As for what comes next, he isn’t making long-term plans.

“I’ve already accomplished everything I set out to do when I was younger,” he said. “Now my goal is just to live free — not worrying.”

He still can’t do everything his body once allowed.

But when he’s on the mat, rolling jiu-jitsu in a Palmerton gym he helped build, the chaos finally makes sense.

And for now, that’s enough.