You can’t know what it meant to me to see this description ca. 1995 when I first read this. It is exactly what I used to feel/hear all the time.
<blockquote>
“I’ve got a good deal to say,” our prisoner said slowly. “I want to tell you gentlemen all about it.”
“Hadn’t you better reserve that for your trial?” asked the inspector.
“I may never be tried,” he answered. “You needn’t look startled. It isn’t suicide I am thinking of. Are you a doctor?” He turned his fierce dark eyes upon me as he asked this last question.
“Yes, I am,” I answered.
“Then put your hand here,” he said, with a smile, motioning with his manacled wrists towards his chest.
I did so; and became at once conscious of an extraordinary throbbing and commotion which was going on inside. The walls of his chest seemed to thrill and quiver as a frail building would do inside when some powerful engine was at work. In the silence of the room I could hear a dull humming and buzzing noise which proceeded from the same source.
“Why,” I cried, “you have an aortic aneurism!”</blockquote>
–Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, _A Study in Scarlet_, Chapter 6 (emphasis added)
