The hospital started giving daily news briefings on my condition.
People just turned up wanting to see me – government ministers, diplomats, politicians, even an envoy from the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Most brought bouquets, some of them exquisitely beautiful.
One day Fiona Alexander brought me a bag of cards and toys and pictures.
It was Eid ul-Azha, 'Big Eid', our main religious holiday, so I thought maybe some Muslims had sent them.
Then I saw the postage dates, from 10 October, 11 October, days before, and I realised it was nothing to do with Eid.
They were from people all over the world wishing me a speedy recovery, many of them schoolchildren.
I was astonished and Fiona laughed.
'You haven't seen anything yet.'
She told me there were sacks and sacks more, about 8,000 cards in total, many just addressed, 'Malala, Birmingham Hospital'.
One was even addressed, 'The Girl Shot in the Head, Birmingham', yet it had got there.
There were offers to adopt me as if I had no family and even a marriage proposal.
Rehanna told me that thousands and millions of people and children around the world had supported me and prayed for me.
Then I realised that people had saved my life.
I had been spared for a reason.