When I was no longer able to work due to fatigue, I started a daily ritual of getting up at 9am to watch "I Love Lucy" reruns--two of them, back to back. I would then return to bed and wake up at noon for "Perry Mason." After six months of this, I found that I no longer paid attention to what was on the TV. It became a pacifier, keeping me from the reality of my situation.     One day while I was out and needing to take my AZT, I happened upon Rest Stop. They were in need of a volunteer, and I was in need of getting purpose back into my life. There was only one problem: in the main living room at the Rest Stop sat a television set. The TV was usually on, and several people were often grouped around it watching anything that happened to be on. Here we were, all doing collectively what we ostensibly left our individual homes to avoid.     One day, I came in and locked the television up in the closet. Surprisingly, no one seemed to notice that it was gone. What was amazing, however, was the sound of conversation coming from the living room. People were sharing their experiences, their hopes and fears. Connections were being made and some of the isolation was being broken. At the next fundraising garage sale, we had a TV for sale.